


Cataclysmic

by knightora



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Blood Drinking, Dubious Ethics, Half-Vampires, M/M, Magic, Summoning Circles, The Apocalypse Is Coming, There is romance i swear, Urban Fantasy, Witches, ambiguous 2000s, blood sacrifice, extreme revenge, jinyoung both loves and hates his family, jinyoung is evil, summoning elder gods, this is a ride, this is based off of a ttrpg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightora/pseuds/knightora
Summary: Jinyoung's been training his entire life--only to have it all ripped away from him in an accident leaving him on death's doorstep.The end times are coming.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	1. Introduction

He flicks the lighter in his hand, once, twice, on and on, until it lights, finally producing a brilliant flame. Jaebeom swears he’s not a pyromaniac. He’s a preacher’s son.

  
Stealing it was a bit difficult, as it was totally illegal, but he’s a bit attached to the device, now, even though he could walk into a store and easily get a replacement in seconds. There’s something about the basic silver paneling that intrigues him. Even if he needs a new one.

  
He’s not even supposed to be out. But home is suffocating, especially late into the night. City streets always seem to get darker every time he sneaks out, even though he’s an adult, and no father’s rules should hold him back like they do, but it’s probably better just to listen.

  
All he has to go by is his flame, scattered street lights, and blinking neon signs. It is...a bit surprising, at how it seems like he’s the only one out and about. It is late, but they’re also in the city. Buildings spiral and tower above him, to be intimidating. His church is down the street, and it’s just as ominous with spikes on it’s towers that could probably impale the heavens.

  
All that’s really left is the moon. It’s a crescent tonight, preparing to disappear in the next couple of days and truly leave them in the dark. It’s shade reminds him of champagne. The kind he’s not allowed to have.

  
He loves the moon, though. Days are long, and boring, lonely, and controlling. He only gets out at night, when he climbs out his window to the fire-escape, to wander back in once the sun continues it’s oppressive reign. And at the services when his father asks him why he’s so lethargic, he gives no answer. He’s probably on to him. He’s probably on to everything. The streets are always empty.  
He sighs, flicking the lighter once more to get it produce light, as he steps on something that cracks. The sound is amplified by quiet streets, and he stops for a moment, holding up the flame to get a closer look.

  
A bottle, label torn off. Had he really just broken it? Whatever. His shoes are sturdy.

  
The streets are opening up to the road accommodating his church, when he hears another noise. Not a crack. Scraping.

  
Behind him.

  
Right. People aren’t on the streets because there’s an apparent serial killer on the loose. At least that's what his father rants about at every service, it's on the news, too. Of course that slipped his mind--but what are the fucking chances when he does this nearly every night anyways? Addiction to moonlight is no help to his wellbeing.

  
Maybe...he’s not their type?

  
He stays still, sucking in a breath. There’s an alley to his side, he could maybe slip into and hide. Or he can make a run for it to the church. Slip into one of the sanctums. But his father would definitely know he was there. He has this strange, strange sixth sense—

  
Alright, no, Jaebeom, think.

  
The scraping continues, and he stays still.

  
What’s a proper plan...?

  
He gets an answer, by some weird, mumbly screech behind him, and dives into the alley. It’s not very wide, and he might have cut his pant leg on whatever metal was sticking out, and there’s also—a dead end.

  
Of course.

  
He stares up at the wall, covered in old rotting posters, and the same boring brick the rest of the city is encased in, with his lighter cutting out as the fluid apparently, finally runs out after years.  
The moon remains his only ally, shining into his little prison, for one last stand. The scraping only stops as he turns around after coming to the conclusion, if he’s to die, he’d like to lose his face, first.

Oh...

No knife, no clear weapon, nothing. Human-adjacent, the scraping seems to have come from whatever it was dragging itself on. It doesn’t seem like a living being—it seems patched together, by some higher power. It’s movements are jerky and puppeteering-like, as it scrapes closer. Does it have the power to kill? The thought?

  
The cross around his neck burns, but all he does is press himself against the wall. He’s not exactly sure if this is a threat, but he knows he has no clear escape...

  
He does get his answer, as the creature lunges towards him, and he shuts his eyes. Impact, slicing, pain, it doesn’t come, as there’s a cascade of footsteps, a smash, and then something wet on his skin.  
Jaebeom slides to the ground, as whatever the noise is continues, and he’s sure his cross is actually burning him. He clicks his lighter, and surprised by the warmth of a flame by his fingers, as there’s some, squeal, and re-centering footsteps.

  
“Hey? Helloo? Are you alright?”

  
Fine. He’ll open his eyes. It’s almost painful to peel them open, even though he’s certain whatever that creature was probably couldn’t talk.

  
The guy staring down at him, only has moonlight shining on his back, and so he makes no distinguishable features, except for the fact that he’s clearly human, and a bright, fanged smile.

  
His silence is enough to be offputting, apparently.

  
“You’re, like...out late.” He says, excitement waning out his voice. Jaebeom’s gaze floats to the nailed bat he’s leaning on, clearly bloody. A glance to his hand, and his entire side seems to be covered with very red blood. “Hi, earth to the priest?”

  
Jaebeom’s senses are completely overwhelmed, and he’s not quite sure what to think. That thing wasn’t human...and yet, red, red blood. And...what did this guy say? Why is he so happy? He just killed something.

  
He blinks. “How do you know who I am?” It’s clearly aggressive, but the guy doesn’t blink. Clouds slowly drift in front of the moon, dying it red, adding a strange tint to the scene. He figures he should stand, instead of giving a clear, stabby vantage point.

  
His words seem to catch him off guard. “Oh—I! I, er...good guess?” He glances behind quickly, and then offers him his hand. “Won’t bite, I swear.” Teeth...

  
He stares at it. And the blood. And the corpse of whatever that was. “What the hell did you do?”

  
He seems a bit taken aback at the resistance, “...Saved you?”

  
Saved him. He scoffs. His ‘savior’s smile returns.

  
Jaebeom takes his hand, and he pulls him up, quickly letting go as soon as they’re at the same level. He can glance behind the bat-wielding man, to a very dead scraping-thing, with whatever resembled it’s head bashed in. He swallows, taking a step back.

  
Batman, as he shall be dubbed, is decked out in what Jaebeom thinks is too much leather, but he just helped him out, so he should be grateful.

  
“What the fuck was that?”

  
The guy glances behind him, pointing to the thing. “That?” He nods. Jaebeom finds his cool, calm, collected aura...well, it sort of pisses him off. “Oh, homunculi. Servants of witches, usually. They’re generally harmless, but, why are you out on the streets if you don’t know?”

  
“I was just going for a walk...” By the looks of it, he doesn’t believe him, but Jaebeom also has to think—witches? “Wait.”

  
“Wait.” He says, at some lazy attempt at a joke.

  
“...What don’t I know? I’m—explain.” He tries to keep his voice cold, but it doesn’t work, as the guy’s face lights up.

  
Batman whistles, “That’s a handful. If you’ve got time...I mean, you’ve seen it already, sooooo...I’m Jinyoung, hi.”

  
“Jinyoung...?” Familiar name. “I’m—“ The burning around his neck gets a bit too unbearable, so he rips it off, cradling the holy metal in his hand, upside down. Jinyoung simply raises an eyebrow.  
“You’re that preacher’s son, aren’t you?” He points loosely in the direction of the church, “That one over there, yeah?”

  
He nods slowly, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, fingers playing with the necklace and lighter accordingly.

  
Jinyoung’s oddly attentive, as he starts backing out the alley, “Let’s have this chat at my place instead? If that’s alright with you, I’d rather not be snuck up on by a vampire.”  
Jaebum follows, too curious not to. Vampire? The streets were as dark as they were before, but now there’s a new sense of danger, and anxiety-inducing secrets. He’s not sure what to think at all, other than, his cross just burned him. And Jinyoung just gives him more questions, as they briskly walk by his church, intimidating spirals and all,

  
“Jaebeom,” Wait. “You’re not gonna be a snitch and blab, are you?” Wait.

  
He shakes his head, as they turn a corner, “I’m offended. Do I look like a snitch?” As the church disappears, taking the ominous feeling with it. Jinyoung stops at a little brownstone, clearly older than the other ones surrounding it.

  
“In my experience, you church people are always snitches.”

  
Wow. Fucking rude. But. Wait...

  
He pulls out a little key, switching the bat to his other hand, unlocking the door. Jaebeom doesn’t miss the flash of light that comes with it. “I mean, you can blab, but it’s not like people will believe you. Ha.” He opens it, gesturing for Jaebeom to go in first. Against his better judgment, he does, gripping his cross.

  
The inside is much like it’s exterior. Old. Warm yellow lights strain his eyes, as he can finally get a good look at his supposed savior. The foyer is full of warmer-toned browns, golds, etc. They both stand out in their cold black attire.

  
Jinyoung is— “Wait. I know you.”

  
Somewhat. He’s definitely the same guy that went missing his last year of high school. It was a story for weeks, followed by a lot of other odd, unexplainable events. They had a ton of classes together, even though Jaebeom feels they never had a conversation, (his friend pool was severely limited) his absence was felt. There was this whole candle-light vigil they had, that his friends, er, friend forced him to go too. Out of the goodness in his heart, he means.

  
He seems a little older, but not much. The only real thing that’s changed about him is his hair. But, he clearly hadn’t noticed that he had fangs before, so what does he know, really? He also gets these cute whiskers when he smiles, that seems like something noticeable, but...

  
Jinyoung doesn’t seem surprised,

  
“From school? Everyone thought you were—“

  
“Let’s get talking, shall we? It's just, so late.”

  
He thought they were, but Jinyoung gestures for him to follow out of the foyer and into a rather cramped hallway, decorated with weird golds, and odd trophies verging on the macabre. Skulls. Furs. Trophies. He forces open a door at the end of the hallway, into a small room resembling a study, lit by a bright fireplace on the right side of it.

  
The room seems more like a storage room, but there are chairs, under the mountain of books. Jinyoung points to a chair, Jaebum decides to go along with it and just sits, cautiously leaning back. Jinyoung wanders over to the little bookcase adjacent of the fireplace.

  
“So.”

  
“So...”

  
Jinyoung gives him this smile, playing with his hands. “So. Vampires, demons, anything you can think of really, are real.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“Appearances of such creatures are only increasing. Slowly, but surely. As a consequence, walls are breaking, blah, blah, blah, everything you know is a lie—basically, werewolves are real. Oh, and incubi. Witches, which I’m sure you’re aware...”

  
For some reason, this doesn’t seem far-fetched. The serial-killer story had intrigued him for the wrong reasons, and just surface level research told him it made no sense. And yet the entire city hides at night. Pathetic, really.

  
Or maybe he’s the weird one. Jinyoung seems to think so.

  
“...What do you mean, ‘I’m aware?’”

  
Jinyoung leans back, against the bookcase, creaking. “You took that better than I thought!” He says, Jaebeom just rolls his eyes, “I hunt these creatures for a living. It’s sort of a family business but I'm the only one running it.” He pauses. “At the moment.”

  
Answered his question with need for new ones...okay. He might like this guy.

  
“Amazing,” He sighs, “Mary Shelley was right all along.”  
____  
Jaebeom's not sure why he's the one called for this.

  
He stares down at the three, bright red claw marks scratched across Jinyoung's chest. His breathing is shallow, and his eyes are shut, focused on his labored breathing. He remembers the call well--Mark Tuan; he met him at a church service one week after meeting Jinyoung, and he could tell something was just a little off, but he was the one who offered his home when Jaebeom's father decided to accuse him of being possessed by the devil.

  
Soon after, he found out Mark was some, full human badass who's ancestry had a deep history intertwined with Jinyoung's in this godsforsaken city, and Jaebeom found out that his own ancestors were probably witches.

  
It, at the very least, explained why he liked watching things burn.

  
But then Mark called him, explaining in a voice where he couldn't quite find the emotion; "Jinyoung's been hurt. Come as soon as you can." As he got there, the normally calm Mark was nervously whispering about werewolves.

  
So he did, and then Mark stared at him, and gave him some weird book covered in a runic language that he could somehow _read._ Not that it made sense in his brain. 

_"_ Yoongi isn't here," He explained. "That's a stabilizing spell. Could you try?" 

He hadn't known Jinyoung's brother was the authority on magic around here, but then, where was he? 

Jaebeom sucks in a breath. He drops the book onto the end table. 

"You need a hospital." He starts. "I--I can't do this." _What are you expecting of me_? 

Mark presses his lips together. "Yes, let's take the damphyr to the emergency room." He looks at Jaebeom, eyes sympathetic. He wonders how he's so calm, when Jaebeom feels as if he's operating on 10% brain power with the sight in front of him. "We don't have much time."

He doesn't. He doesn't _know_ this world. 

Mark's gaze is steely, "Could you at least try?" Jaebeom's eyes flicker back to Jinyoung--he's sweating, eyes shut. "Yoongi can do this, but he needs to be stabilized first." 

Jinyoung groans in pain and Jaebeom swallows. What's the harm?

He lifts the tome back into his arms, scanning the page. 


	2. Chapter 2

He gets home, late at night dragging his suitcase, Jungkook’s surprised to see Jinyoung and a mortal, in his kitchen. Weirdly close, in _his kitchen_. The room is just to the left of the foyer, and the noises made him curious enough, to peek in before the trek to his bed. After getting that weird call from Youngjae and all from the headmaster's office and three in the morning, he'd expect his, so-called-injured brother lying on bedrest and not in the kitchen. Where _is_ Yoongi, anyways? 

His dearest brother, and a stranger. Mortal, he misjudged. Nonetheless, he smells human.

Why does his dear, _dear_ brother always pick up the strangest individuals? Dark hair, pale, sickly...and clearly inept in the magical arts. Tch.

The cross around his neck is intriguing. In that pathetic way, that Jinyoung is totally predictable. He hates first borns. Well, the one he has experience with at least. Well, he’s not even first-born, so maybe, he just hates Jinyoung.

He lingers by the doorway, watching them. Jinyoung and his stupid vampyric tendencies. He’d think he’d learn to control well, _that_ , better, but he looks just about ready to devour his little mortal friend. And not in the fun, sucking blood way. His presence matches his brother’s though, and the stranger’s eyes drift to his, away from the tome Jinyoung was watching him thumb through. It’s either a cookbook or their family secrets. He’s not sure yet.

“Uh, hi.” He nudges Jinyoung’s shoulder to knock him out of the trance, bringing a hand to his lips, wiping, and his brother’s gaze finds him and his suitcase. As he turns, Jungkook can notice the bandages wrapped delicately around his chest and rib-cage, barely covered by the tank-top he's wearing. It looks bad, not that Jinyoung shows it--they need to be changed. 

His eyes narrow slightly. “Jungkook?”

“The only and only.” He whistles, trying to be causal, but he’d honestly maul his eyes out.

But that look is quickly replaced with a bright smile. The one he can’t be mad at. He spreads his arms, inviting him in. His guest looks awkward. “You’re back already? How was school?”

He leaves his suitcase by the door, taking a few tenuous steps into the kitchen. The air is immediately a little cooler. He’s a bit curious as to what they were doing, but Jinyoung takes him into his arms before he could ask. Squeezing the life out of him.

“I—ugh, brother, you’re _killing_ —“ Jungkook groans, as he squeezes tighter. “ _Hyuuung_!”

The whining gets him to stop, letting go and ruffling his hair, and turning a bit to face his guest. “Jaebeom, this is my baby brother, Jungkook.”

The way he says the guy’s name, it’s like it’s precious, appreciating the syllables on his tongue. He is _so_ using this against him later. And it seems like it takes effort for Jaebeom to willingly tear his eyes off of his brother, and to him.

He gives him a lazy half smile, leaning on his hand against the tome, with a little wave. “Heya.” Jungkook waves back with a quick nod of his head. He’s not sure if he wants to be in this room anymore. His suitcase—and bed, is calling. As much as he lives for the night, he has an early day tomorrow.

But speaking of duties, as he exits the kitchen, back to his suitcase, “So...while you're out of commission, who's on patrol?”

Jinyoung simply rolls his eyes, already back next to his guest. “I can’t stop every vampire sucking a body dry, Jungkook.” A clearly joking tone, but...

Right. Let people die. As you do.

He nods a bit, making sure his frown is apparent. “Gotcha. I’m heading to bed.” He plays too much.

“Sweet dreams.” Jinyoung calls, as he starts making his way up the stairs.

____

Being alone with Jinyoung, is like, the worst? The rest of their family still out traveling and when it’s just him and Jungkook, things get...intense. It might’ve been better to stay at school, instead, even if he needs help. Even if Youngjae and Yoongi are being _extra_ secretive--why have him come home so early? Sure, he gets if it's like, 'oh, ho,ho, take care of your brother', but Jinyoung doesn't even _need_ his help, if he were somehow able to admit it. 

He doesn’t see his brother's little meal for a while, but they’re definitely talking. He can hear him laughing from his _goddamn_ bedroom, while he’s trying to study. And when he walks by. Or when he’s training.

Sometimes, he picks up the landline just to listen.

“My father said he thinks I’ve been possessed by a demon.”

“Oh? Just a casual assumption! I mean, you’re fast.” His smugness...god, Jungkook hopes it doesn’t rub off on him. “A demonic possession would be interesting, to say the least.”

“ _Interesting_?” He snorts, “I keep getting followed on my way home from church. Guess it’s fate.”

“Oops.” _Ughhhhh_.

He drops the phone back on the line, even though that totally gives him away. Jungkook leans back against his bed, waiting for the inevitable, _you little easvedropping brat_!

Doesn’t come. At least they’ve matured in that way.

Jungkook continues flipping through his book. It’s a guidebook of sorts damphyr hunters, the supernatural, what he'd be learning his school, but he can’t _learn_ to _apply_ any of it. Fucking first borns. Not first borns. Whatever.

The rest of the family isn’t even close to home, and he’s already at his wit’s end. He should have extended his trip, he doesn't particularly care if Jinyoung went and got himself injured. 

And that’s how he found himself at the end of a table, waiting for an esteemed guest. Jungkook would expect the Pope, but Jinyoung jut gives him this _smile_ as he’s chopping carrots.

“How are your studies?”

“Fine,” He mutters, watching him gather the carrots, then drop them into the pot. It’s already sunset, so he’s curious of when his guest will arrive. The orange light filtering into the room gives it a nostalgic feeling, mixing with the already homely-cluttered nature of the kitchen. It...well, it makes him miss his mother, to be honest, but it also feels...it feels fine?

His thoughts don’t betray the fact that he and Jinyoung have never gotten along. And the week alone hasn’t helped either.

But, it’s sort of nice to spend time together.

“What about...” Jungkook starts, finding his throat a little dry, “Uh...your, how was working, before everything...happened?”

Jinyoung smiles at him again, as he pulls another carrot out of the bag by the side of the cutting board, and continues his work. “Oh, well, you know. Fighting evil by moonlight is always enjoyable, no?”

He can’t help the frown quirking at his lips, “But the reports are just getting worse. Normies will figure it out soon eno—"

“Jungkook,” He tsks, pointing the knife at him. “Humans would readily believe an insane cult is sucking people dry than a vampire. Don’t worry about it. They’ll remain ignorant.” He tosses the carrots back into the pot again. “But, it is concerning...this city doesn’t seem like the greatest spot for some supernatural migration. There’s only a few covens, alone.”

“So what? You think something big’s coming?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I do.” Jinyoung says, and before Jungkook can supply a snarky remark back, the sound of the doorbell interrupts them. “Oh, that’s probably him. Door, please, Kookie?”

He hates it when Jinyoung tries to be the ‘older brother’, he’s terrible at it. All and every form of discipline, except light scolding.

“Yeah, yeah. Was gonna do it anyways.” He pulls himself up, exiting the kitchen to the foyer, and swinging it open.

“—Oh! Hi there.” His friend—er, the church boy. Not that he particularly looks like he goes to church—like, at all. His attire is all black, the only disruption being the silver cross around his neck and the bottle of wine he’s carrying. With his hair slicked back, he doesn’t seem so innocent. Curious. “Your brother, he’s around, yea—“

“Please. Drop it. I’m not a baby.” He groans, rolling his eyes. “Just come in or whatever.”

Church boy smiles, shutting the door behind him and following Jungkook into the kitchen. The warmth of whatever Jinyoung’s cooking permeates throughout the bottom floor, even as he leaves the two to go snoop around their grandfather’s study.

Having three older brothers, it’s always been a little hard to disappear, but with only one around, and said one being the most easily distracted, especially with his stupid friend _or whatever_ , he can easily maneuver his way through the study, and pass the bookcase pulling that one specific book his grandfather always tried to hide. And the bookcase slides, revealing a little hidden compartment. A person could probably fit in it, if not for the little cabinets, probably full of ritualistic ingredients, as well as never-out candles. And his favourite family heirloom.

Jungkook supposes it’s like a scrapbook, detailing their family lineage, including important kills. As a somewhat well regarded family of hunters—and their grandfather being the _only_ full-blooded vampire left as of this moment, he dictates the rules.

(God, if Jinyoung doesn’t find some other vampire to love, the rest of the family will have his head. Not that Jungkook _cares—_ he’d prefer it. Maybe if Yoongi weren’t so...)

Being half is better, anyways. It would suck to have to continuously murder your _own_ , right? And protect humans for what?

This is why he didn’t get any training. His grandfather states immaturity, a reason both he and Youngjae refuse to accept, and he just chalks it down to laziness and unneeded exclusivity. Why should Jinyoung be the only one murdering creatures of the night? It’s unfair. He wants to do it. He’ll be better at it. He can protect ungrateful humans better than anyone in this stupid, damphyric family can. But, seeing as stupid Jinyoung is currently out of business, maybe this is his time to shine--Yoongi obviously wanted him back home for a reason, right? The world must go on. 

His little foray into the family records to prove his point comes up short. Especially as he can hear Jinyoung calling his name from the kitchen.

He covers up his steps, and exits the study, closing the door behind him carefully. Jinyoung may not be his favorite hunter, but that’s not to deny him completely of his skill, even though Jungkook knows he’d be better.

“Jungkook...? Are you coming down?”

“—I’m here. I’m _here_. What?” He enters the kitchen to Jinyoung pulling off his oven mits, and, god, that’s an autumn meal. Warm and filling, and yet a little...he doesn’t know.

He’s not sure. His guest is pouring wine into glasses as he sits. They have a formal dining room, but it’s a little much for three people. Their little kitchen table is enough. Even though it provides an intimacy Jungkook’s never quite...had? It’s a little weird.

Jinyoung seems happy, though. Which is just, plain, strange.

He’s always thought he was weird. He and Yoongi, as the eldest brothers, they’re well...monstrous, sometimes. Not in a personality way—even though Jungkook thinks Jinyoung’s personality is his weakness, he just means his nature. Both of his oldest brothers have that pure, vampyric instinct. Moreso than he and Youngjae, they’ve always passed as just plain human, while Jinyoung and Yoongi, they were just... _off_. The fact that they can’t retract their fangs is one factor.

The other is behavior, but Jungkook is biased. Jinyoung holds his wine glass like some educated, prim, delicate noble, but he’s really just...

Well. He’s good at killing. Tearing things apart. The works.

“So...hyung.” He breaks the silence, knowing he’s grateful. “We didn’t finish our talk earlier.”

“Ah? I apologize.” His fangs disappear into his frown. Jungkook can’t help but smile that he takes everything _so seriously_.

“Yeah, about the apocalypse or whatever.” He glances to the church boy. Or Jaebeom. He doesn’t care. “Errrrr...”

“Errrr,” Jinyoung mocks, “Jungkook, you’ve really gotta control your...” He pauses, letting him fill in the blank.

He twirls his fork, glaring down at his plate. “How about you control your shit and _then_ we talk about self-restraint?”

“Turning it up to eleven, I see.” His matter-of-fact calmless. Add that to the list of things he hates. He seemingly ignores his remark, “Anyways, yes. I wouldn’t call it the apocalypse per say, little brother. Just a major change in our reality. It doesn’t have to be bad, but it doesn’t mean it’s good, either.”

“Ugh.” He groans, “Can’t you just pick a side? A _major change in reality_? I think that’s _bad_ , hyung.”

“The covenants are dubbing it The Reckoning, if that will satisfy you.” Jinyoung says, and his eyes drift over to Jaebeom, and leaning over the table a bit to get closer to him. Like he won’t hear what he’s saying... “Sorry about the young one.”

“The young one protests the name, ‘young one’” Jungkook drones.

Jaebeom leans on his hand, “No, this is interesting. You totally don’t get along.” Before Jungkook can yell at him for making assumptions, “This world seems so complex. Especially to sense something like that? I wonder what could happen...?”

“The _apocalypse_.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “You’re so bloodthirsty.”

“Am _not_. I just don’t think you’re qualified.”

“But, Jungkook, you never come down to spar with me. How do you know?” Again, before he can fire back some bratty reply, to his equally bratty answer, he speaks. “That’s enough. Eat your food. Let’s enjoy each-other’s company, hm?”

Jungkook growls, turning his attention back to his plate. “At least I'm not the one with a fucked up chest."And then it dawns on him, lifting his eyes to the church boy. “Why’re _you_ here, anyways?” Just adds to his assumptions. Jinyoung is _easy_.

“Now—Jungkook—“ Jungkook _would_ feel fear at the biting growl in his voice, if he hadn’t scolded him with it a million times before.

“Oh. Well, afterwards, Jinyoung was going to answer some questions I had. And he thought you might be lonely, with just the two of you, all week...” Jaebeom’s disposition remains hesitant, at Jungkook’s tone, so, he wins.

He’s starting to miss boarding school. “Really.”

“You seem like a tight-knit family.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbles, guilt finally starting to settle in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, all. i enjoy this chapter a lot!! hope you all do too! we're getting a comeback y'all!!!!!!!! this is more of an interlude/character introduction...chapter...jungkook is always my fave.


	3. Chapter 3

Jinyoung sighs, shutting the door behind them. Jungkook ran up to his room, practically as soon as his plate was slightly cleared, leaving him and Jaebeom feeling awkward. Or maybe it was just him.

He gestures to the bookcases lining the wall of the small room, “This is my grandfather’s study, but it’s mostly where we keep the occult information.” Jaebeom nods a bit, but he notices his gaze trained on the fireplace. “Oh. The flames are eternal.”

“...That’s possible?”

“It’s a fairly easy enchantment. Personally, I don’t see the benefit for a fireplace.” He says, finding his way to one of the bookcases, searching carefully, but it’s not like the dim lighting does much for him. As well as he’s adapted to the dark, doesn’t make firelight any easier to read by. “Hmmm...I know grandfather has a book on the local covens, but...”

Jaebeom plays with his hands, “No, it’s fine. I’ve just been so curious. I just thought I’d...you know, ask you.” His laugh is tight, “Y’know. Haven’t let me down yet.”

He finds the book as he says that, pulling the heavy tome out of the shelf. “Magic.”

Jaebeom smiles back at him, a soft light one, only amplified by the firelight. Maybe an eternal fireplace _is_ good for something. Jinyoung places the book on the desk as he approaches.

“Like I said. You’re a _perfect_ source.” Perfect?

“I save your life and I’m just your _source_?” That gets a real laugh out of him. Jinyoung turns his gaze to the fire, “This won’t backfire on you, will it? I’ve heard rumors about your father...” As in, literal witch hunts for suspected heretics—Many of which as Jinyoung knows to be supernatural, witches in particular.. Law being nonexistent in this city is good for a hunter, but equally as good for anyone as amoral...

“I feel like,” He laughs, fake again, “If my father knew I was a witch, I’d be the first to be murdered?” He has that warm smile again, “But, your concern is much appreciated. He's already accused me, anyhow. I just have to make myself scarce.”

Gods, he wants to devour him. “Yeah. No problem. See you soon, then?”

Jaebeom picks up the book, clutching it to his chest. “I _guess_ , if you so please. I’ll try to see you before the apocalypse.” Playing hard to get, he sees. Nice...

Jinyoung grins, “Great. Hope your line isn’t busy.” He follows him out of the room, and down the hall. Their little conversation doesn’t quite amount to anything, especially his goal. Which is; stay a little longer, _please_?

Either way, doesn’t work. It’s already quite dark outside, as he opens the door, the champagne moon being the only consistent source of light. For some reason, all of the streetlights around here flicker incessantly, and he’s not quite sure if he should call the city, or tell his neighbours to stop siphoning electricity for their stupid experiments. But...

“How far away is the hotel? It’s so dark, already...” Jaebeom had been staying with Mark for a week or so, but his friend had gone on a trip a little before Jungkook came back home, and Jaebeom was uncomfortable staying in the home of someone he had just met. So he was holed up in one of the motels on the edge of the city.

Jaebeom glances to the watch on his wrist. It’s silver, thin. Simple, like the four rings on his left hand. “Maybe a twenty minute walk?”

Guess this is _sort_ of a win? “So...I’ll be walking you home, then.”

“I _mean_...” He stops, adjusting the book so he can tap his chin. “I guess I almost died that one time. But it’s never happened before.”

“You know you’re in a supernatural neighbourhood, right?” Jinyoung shuts the door behind him. It occurs to him he didn’t tell Jungkook, but knowing that kid, he definitely doesn’t care. “Let’s go. Maybe we can make it thirty.”

He gets home, probably too late. As in, all the lights next door are on, and he knows _exactly_ who’s home. And here he was, thinking he’d get a few more days of quiet. He could disappear into the night, and pretend he never saw anything, but that would be doing a disservice to Mark, considering that he probably saved his life and all. Then, considering the fact that his elder brother is still, yet to be spotted, it might be helpful to talk to the only other expert he can trust a little more than himself. 

Jackson opens the door with his big, wide smile. “Jinyoung! My favourite summoner!”

What a pleasant surprise, not really. Jackson would expect the man who severed him from the underworld to come and visit him sooner, though. With just Mark, it’s lonely--he's a social creature, after all. Jinyoung tries to make his visits as infrequent as possible. He has no regrets, bringing an incubi into the mortal realm, but he wishes he wasn't so clingy, sometimes. 

He immediately pulls him into a hug, squeezing his waist as tight as he can. “How are you, my darling hunter?”

“Your darling hunter is—“ He prys his hands off of him, “Doing fine. You and Mark are back, already?” Jackson had already been gone--Jinyoung likes to think of them as benders, where he'll spend weeks in a town or city for a time, getting his fill, and show up again, usually a month later. Mark barely leaves home, but he had gone on a little road-trip. A search for something to speed up the healing process. He supposes they must have linked up, as they usually would if one had gone out traveling. 

“Mmm, yeah. But it’s been like, forever. You didn’t miss me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, “But—no, come in, oh, I’m so sorry, how rude can I be?”

Vampires _do_ need to be invited in, of course. He’s not exactly sure if that rule applies fully to him, or not, though. But to be careful.

He tangles a hand in Jinyoung’s hair, parting it a bit, “You look paler. Are you eating? Exercise? Sleep?” The incubi frowns, petting his hair. "How are you feeling--after, all that? You're just so _pale_."

“I’m fairly certain that’s natural, Jackson.” Oh, yeah. Might be. Jackson hasn’t seen him for _weeks_. Mark hasn’t quite told him how to work a phone long distance, even though there weren’t many to choose from. “Though, it’s a bit stressful...”

“I’m _sure_!” Jackson exclaims, watching Jinyoung take his hand out of his hair, and return it to his side. Little weird, Jinyoung usually likes any affection he gives him, but, whatevs. He also seems a little down compared to usual. “Mark’s probably already asleep, if you wanna see him, but I can totally go wake him up—"

“It’s fine. I just wanted to say hello, before I turned in.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Turning in? But it’s so early. Don’t you have a patrol to do?”

“Oh.” Jinyoung sucks in a breath, that's unlike him. “You’re right. I’ll get ready for that instead, hah.” He lies, 

“Do you want company...?” He’s still jetlagged, but really, anything for Jinyoung.

He shakes his head, but Jackson doesn’t really believe him. He places a hand to his forehead, gently massaging. “I’m just, stressed. There’s a lot of work recently. Have you seen the news?”

“ _Have I_? I saw that lazy ass police chief’s press conference, yesterday. He’s so _boring_!” He deepens his voice with a cough, “ _I_ , Kim Namjoon, shall get to the _bottom_ —"

“Don’t make fun of the mortals. They’re trying their hardest.” Also unlike him. If he gave a fuck about mortals, he wouldn’t summon demons from the underworld, but, okay. 

Jackson pouts, crossing his arms. “But they’ll die, and they’re boring.”

Jinyoung shrugs, “I’ve gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow?” _So soon?_

“ _Fine_. Bye!” He gets one more squeeze in before the door shuts, and worry can accurately flow in.

_____

But, it’s funny. Worried for nothing, because the cause is soon apparent. Jackson circles around the guy, taking in his appearance. Tall, dark, and handsome. Cute little moles above his eye and beautiful hair. 

“You’re his type...” Jackson mutters, as the guy lifts his eyes. Jinyoung’s mistake for leaving them alone, while he and Mark went to talk _numbers_ , or something.

He drops his eyes back to his book. Jackson thinks it’s some history book or something. Or might be ritualistic summoning. He’s not sure. What he _does_ know, is,

“Jaebeom, I wanna be _great_ friends with you. I think we can learn a lot from eachother.” And he can teach him...things.

Jaebeom drones, “I’m honored.”

Jackson acutely lacks the awareness to detect sarcasm in most cases. Not in this case, but he chooses to ignore it. “ _Yes_ , so many things. I'm glad we'll be roommates now...”

He can see the weight of his words slowly dawning on him, and he bites his lip. Hook, line, sinke—

“So, do you like wear a hat to hide those horns, or...?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow. Jackson’s not sure if that’s rude or not...? Guess it’s not, if he has to think about it. Maybe this _is_ the beginning of a great friendship!

“Yeah, ‘cept for Halloween. What about you?”

“What about me...?” He tilts his head, clearly confused. Jackson points to his back. Upper back, half covered by his sweater.

“Tattoo?”

Oh. That’s news to him. “What? _Seriously_? What’s it look like?”

“Likea...” He narrows his eyes, “Compass rose with thorns?”

He blinks. Jackson has absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. Except the fear that suddenly crosses his look.

“I’m fucked.”

And that's why they're sharing a room now. Which is great, honestly. Living with Mark is like living with a wall. Jinyoung seems a little upset with this, but it’s not like he could take his boytoy, with three brothers and a very strict grandfather. So he’s Jackson’s now.

Unfortunately, he mostly keeps to himself as well, though more conversational than Mark. He also keeps their conversations insanely impersonal, and Jackson can’t get under his skin like he wants to.

Said witch, Jaebeom, is flipping through a novel— _for fun_ , when Jackson decides to sneak up behind him.

He places a hand on his shoulder, getting him to jump. Stealth is a specialty of his, after all. “Hiya!”

If he’s surprised, it doesn’t show. Tension leaves his shoulders practically immediately, “Evening. Need something?”

“Ummmm...” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “No, not a lot”

He licks his finger and turns a page. Ugh. So chaste.

“Hey,” He leans forward, over the back so he can get a better look at his expression. “What do you think about _Jinyoung_?”

Like the rest of their conversations, nonchalant. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Not much.” Times like these where Jackson wishes he was more intimate with the human feeling of uh, _dishonesty._ He has a hunch, though.

Intriguing... “Er, why? I mean, why. As in—“

“I appreciate the whole, ‘saving my life’ thing, and I’d probably still be in the hellhole that his my home without him, but...” He frowns, brow twitching. Annoyance. “To be completely honest, his nature irritates me.”

“...Nature?” What do you know, anyways, _Jaebeom_?

Ugh. No, he probably has his reasons. Jinyoung’s eagerness, and unfiltered, and _hard work—_ okay, he may be biased.

Jaebeom doesn’t clarify, turning another page. “Anything else?”

Jackson pulls out another smile, “No, not really. But, I’ll be in our room if you need me.” He pulls back, squeezing his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, darling!” 

___________

Jinyoung stalks into Jackson’s house, half-past 3AM bleeding—bleeding like a _lot, lot_.

Jackson, as a purely nocturnal creature, has 3am as his normal operation hours. He likes to read, knit, whatever. Lately, it’s been stopping Jaebeom from setting the kitchen on fire with magic. A tough job, but somebody must do it. Their brownstone is--well, Jackson thinks it's smaller than Jinyoung's stupid ancestral family home or whatever it may be, but, it's comfy enough. Better than fire and brimstone, he supposes. At least he's allowed to blink up here. Mark's parents used to live here, but they died, some like, accident with a giant or something. So, it's theirs. 

Mark, even though he is completely human, and quite honestly needs his beauty sleep, is also awake at these hours. Jackson, the fair incubi he is, finds even snuggling with someone an adequate meal. Ah, the lies he tells himself. So that’s what they were doing, on the couch, Mark with his _stupid_ red hair and pretty eyes, and, and, Jackson watching Jinyoung walk in.

Bleeding, like, a _lot, lot_. There's a huge gash on his arm, that even _Jackson_ (who tends to be numb to these sorts of things,) finds just, a bit disgusting. 

(So he doesn’t need to be invited in? Or does a key cancel that out?)

Mark scrambles off of the couch, as he shuts the door, “Dude?”

He coughs, bringing a hand to his lips. “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t seem like he’s struggling to stand, but it seems like he should be. “Don’t worry—“

Jackson stands as well, placing his hand on the back of the couch to balance. He needs to eat more. “Don’t worry?”

“Don’t— "He coughs again, red coloring the back of his hand. “So there might be a golem outside your apartment.”

“A _golem_?” Mark exclaims. “My fucking god, Jinyoung.”

“I’m- _sorry_ , I got blindsided. I got—“ There are footsteps, and the slow descent of the resident witch. Maybe everybody’s awake at three in the morning. “It’s—very powerful, and I couldn’t just _kill_ it, I had to find out who it’s acting in the will of, but, um, whatever. I need like. Do you have some bandages? Stop the bleeding.”

Mark sighs, looking to Jackson, and Jaebeom as he finishes his descent. Jinyoung leans onto their coat-rack, in some lame attempt to hide his injury, with an equally as lame wave. “First aid’s in the kitchen. I’ll go like...get a pole or something.”

He turns to leave, “Um—excuse me? You’re _not_ going out there—" Jinyoung starts, 

“I’ll be fine. You’re one to talk, Professional blood hunter.” And he’s gone, leaving the three staring at each-other.

Mark exits the apartment, with the promised pole. The staring contest continues.

Jaebeom somehow manages to move before Jackson does, walking to Jinyoung and taking his arm, roughly, he might add. "In the kitchen, right?” He asks, Jackson nods, a bit numb. He’s not sure if he should help Mark, or...No, he knows what he’ll do.

Jinyoung’s brain is going through several levels of comprehension, as he stares at Jaebeom. He’s starting to think maybe Jungkook is right. He’s not fit for this job. Like, at all.

He blinks, hard, to try and get the fuzziness to go away, but he got knocked in the head pretty badly. And he left his bat on the street. The one with all his silver nails, too...

Ugh. He’s useless. Self confidence is useless if _he’s_ useless. He should quit while he’s ahead.

“Earth to Jinyoung?” Oh, that gets through. He wipes the blood from his nose, and Jaebeom just frowns a little. “I was going to clean that for you.”

“Right.”

“Stop doing stupid, dangerous things. Doesn’t it hurt?” Weird way to say you care, but

“Sorry?” He mumbles, and hisses a bit, as whatever anti-bacterial spray he’s using, hits his skin. Jaebeom draws back a bit, and supplies a roll of bandages for his arm, wrapping quickly. He’s clearly done this often.

His question lingers on his tongue for a bit, as he observes. “Does this happen a lot?”

“I’ve been a little careless recently,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom nods slowly at his answer. Jinyoung can’t help but feel...he doesn’t know, nevermind. Jaebeom brings a cloth to his face, and wipes, staring at the blood now coloring it.

“Important job, you have.” Jaebeom muses, “It’d be stupid to die, no?”

He’ll suppose. Jaebeom brings the cloth back to his face, tilting his head up to minimize the flow.

“Do you like, drink blood?” _Almost_ out of left field, if not for Jinyoung’s offhand remarks. Oops.

“Well, yeah. Sometimes.” He waits, as it dawns on him. “Wait.”

_______

It’s nearly comical, but Mark is certainly skilled, holding off this fucking, ten-foot tall steampunk relic construct off with a freaking, _pole_. Jackson’s simply here to make sure he doesn’t get killed. He knows constructs like these can usually siphon away powers, and with how weak he is, he doesn’t want to put himself into danger like that.

Plus, Jaebeom’s smart. They’ll probably figure out how to get Jinyoung back on his feet soon enough.

Oh! Like now! Lovely.

He’s definitely on his feet, shutting the door to the brownstone behind him. The champagne moon is a particular red tonight, adding perfect lighting to the scene, as if the city is bathed in blood.

Jinyoung, though he constantly doubts himself, with early-morning calls to Jackson, is skilled. Exceptionally so. The best in his family, no exceptions. What stops him, is how often he gets into his own head. And maybe he could have better focus.

But after it’s dead, is really when the investigation starts.

The parts litter the empty streets. Good thing there isn’t a body to hide, or anything. He’d hate the police on his door.

Jinyoung’s taken to leaning onto Mark’s pole for support. Jackson can stare at all the parts, and make absolutely no sense out of them. Jaebeom seems to be faring a bit better. _Magic users_ , he sneers.

Jaebeom’s overlooking whatever the object was that was serving as it’s head—it’s a well carved tree trunk, it seems. He sits on the ground, flipping through a book—probably one of the spellbooks Jinyoung gave him.

“Oh...I think it’s magical connection is completely severed?” He calls, catching Jinyoung’s attention.

“So it won't reform. ” Mark mutters. Tapping his foot against the pavement. "That's fucking weird for a golem." 

“The traces are somewhat weak, but...I’d say the connection is maybe, fifty, sixty miles away? Or, no, further.” Jaebeom mutters. By his expression, he seems surprised at himself.

“That’s clear in the country.” Jinyoung groans. “Who in the world builds a golem to survive one encounter?” The hunter has taken to sitting on the stairway leading up to Mark's brownstone. "To send a message?"

Jackson wishes he understood _any_ of this shit. How does Jaebeom already _know_? Fucking prodigies.

“Who'd we piss off?” Mark suggests, and then quickly shakes his head. “That fucking werewolf's pack?" 

Jinyoung bites his lip, an expression of guilt painting his features. But he says nothing. Maybe it's because he summoned him from the underworld and all, but Jackson thinks he's pretty familiar with Jinyoung's emotions, when he's lost on most other humanoids. 

Jaebeom looks to Mark, "Werewolves can build golems?" 

"No--well, if their innate magic ability is strong enough, _maybe_. But that's usually old blood." The redhead starts pacing the crime scene, stepping over a splatter of what he assumes to be Jinyoung's blood. Hopefully that isn't...called to the police. Maybe he'll try to clean it later. Yeah. "A lot of covens and packs are close, though, so it's more-likely they asked for a favor."

"Okay..." Jaebeom begins, "So, is it like, magical contact tracing, or something?" 

"More like, Jinyoung's pretty infamous in supernatural circles." Mark says, nonchalantly, joining Jaebeom on the ground to peer over his shoulder at the spellbook. "Damphyr hunters are usually hated. Jinyoung's family, too. So it's not exactly unexpected, but..." 

Jinyoung clears his throat, "Can we start cleaning this up before some old woman calls the cops on us?" 

“I’ll help you!” Jaebeom stands, quickly crossing the way. Jackson notices the bandage on his wrist. How _lame_ , he didn’t go for the jugular? Jinyoung can be so disappointing. He’ll just have to be his love coach, won’t he? “This, er seems like an interesting case.”

“I’ll have to dedicate some time to it, then. For now, let’s just destroy the pieces.” And that’s his idea of _flirting_? By the gods. Jackson can't even handle his disappointment.

Mark is _totally_ gonna help him with this, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter, everyone! hope you guys enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Jinyoung’s family is back.

Which is great. Amazing. Lovely. He loves his family, even if they all hate him to some degree. He can’t help but be a little miserable, even as Yoongi wraps his arms around him for a tight hug.

He pats his head, ruffling his hair, knocking in another headache. “Good to see you.” And then he moves onto Jungkook, another tight hug. “Glad to see you two haven’t ripped off eachother’s heads.”

Youngjae lingers behind a bit, hands in his pockets. His smile is hesitant, but it drops bit, by bit, every time they lock eyes.

To his surprise, he does get words. “Hyung, what happened to your arm? And like, face?”

Jungkook and Yoongi glance over. They clearly hadn’t noticed. Which is okay. They don’t have to worry-they don’t have to _think_ about him.

He coughs, running a hand through his hair, hopefully fixing what Yoongi messed up. “Just a little accident. Where’s Grandfather?”

“Stayed in the country. Said the fresh air was good for him, and the crypt. Did you get our letter? Someone fucking _broke in_.” Yoongi says, and then grabs his arm, inspecting the half-healed cuts. “You can move like this?”

“I’m fine.”

Yoongi frowns. “I don’t like seeing you destroy yourself.”

He nods. “Okay,”

And, that was the wrong answer. He squeezes his arm, just hard enough so that the ache renews itself. “Why don’t _you_ take a vacation?”

“I don’t think...I _know_ that’s not a good idea. Incidents are increasing on the regular. I’ll—“

“ _And_ you’re going to disobey your older brother?” He says. Jinyoung shuts his mouth. He pats his head again—so funny, because he’s shorter, but, “I’ll give you a bit to think about where you want to go. But I recommend somewhere hot, with a great view.”

Jungkook glances between the two, clearly calculating. His face lights up. “Wait—if he’s gone, does that mean we can do the work?”

And so, he loads up their little family car—obsolete in the city, but perfect for a long trip. It’s a old, classic blue convertible. His younger brothers practically dog piled him into this—and he gets the feeling, maybe not of the purest intentions?

He decided to take his leave in the mid afternoon. He prefers driving at night. His brothers are off, ‘training’, Yoongi being the excellent teacher he is, leaving Jinyoung to just...go.

On a road trip. For various reasons but he’ll only be caught dead by a beach, if he needs a _vacation_ so bad. (His body and mind are clearly not in agreement—his injuries are only healing slower. But he’ll relax when he’s dead. This trip is for _research_ )

He shuts the trunk, and as he does, there’s the sound of feet running on pavement, and,

“Oh, thank Gods you didn’t leave yet!” Jackson exclaims. He has a duffel hanging on his shoulder. He didn’t close the door to the brownstone, and... “Were you just planning to disappear into the night?”

“Are you _planning_ on joining me?” There’s enough room. He doesn’t particularly care, and researching occult occurrences alone in the country isn’t the wisest idea. 

“How about three of us?” Mark shouts, dragging out his suitcase, quickly followed by Jaebeom.

“Yes!” Jackson shouts, pointing back to the redhead as he drags the bag down the stairs, wheels hitting each one in that awkward, _please stop_ way. “Mark’s told me your mortal road trips can _suck_ , and Yoongi told me—“

“You talk?”

“All the time!” News to him. “—But, he said someone should probably keep an eye out on you, make sure you don’t do anything stupid, you little workaholic.”

Only Yoongi. What did he expect? Of course he’d find a way to monitor him if he’s worried. Mark gets his suitcase down the staircase, but then, there’s, well, him...

Jaebeom. Him. The witch. He’s more preoccupied with fixing his backpack, than the stairs, and that’s how he almost falls up the stairs, tripping, and landing a step or two down in a weird sitting position.

Jackson nudges his shoulder as it’s happening, “Go help him?” Jinyoung wonders if he sabotaged him or something.

“Why?” But then Mark drops his suitcase to the pavement, offering a hand, which he quickly takes.

“Did you hurt something?” Mark asks, letting go once they’ve cleared the hazardous steps.

Jaebeom’s response is lost to the rush of wind, but Jackson crosses his arms with a loud sigh,

“Jinyoungie, I know you’re not stupid.” He re-opens the trunk, throwing in his duffel, “Dense sometimes, but—okay, I know you like him, so why are you being stupid?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You like him.”

“W-well, yeah—I think he’s pretty cool. I’d like to be better fri—“

“Nooo, but you wanna like...” He makes an obscene gesture. It’s funny because for an incubi, he’d think the natural _associ—_

Yeah, he just felt his soul leave his body.

“— _What_? Jackson, nonsense. We’re simply friends. Nothing less, nothing more.” He pauses, before he can open his mouth again, “ _Acquaintances_ , truly.”

“ _Ohh_ , so you wanna like,” Another obscene gesture. Jinyoung’s face is on fire. “I thought humans would find casual sex more appealing, I suppose I misjudged you.”

“Jackson, please...”

As Mark and Jaebeom finally make their way over, Jackson leans forward, tapping his nose. “You hopeless hunter you. Just you wait!”

He thinks he misses half of their conversation, but Mark leans on his suitcase, asking a question. He just nods dumbly.

Jaebeom laughs, funny how that’s comprehensible “Wow, that wasn’t even close to a _yes_ or _no_ question.”

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“You’re not taking a test, Jinyoung.” Mark drones, getting another laugh out of Jaebeom. He can’t help but get a feeling snaking up his chest. “What’s the planned destination?”

“Oh.” He gestures for Mark to give him his suitcase, and he does, re-opening the trunk. “Well, I told Yoongi I was going to see geysers or something, but I’m really planning on just following a hunch.”

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

“Is that what you call a vacation?” Jaebeom asks, as he hands Jinyoung his backpack, also tossing it into the trunk.

He slams it shut, and fishes out the car keys, “Maybe I’m a _bit_ of a workaholic.”

But he loves the road. Sunset, an empty highway and music half-lost to the wind. Jinyoung’s always been a risk-taker, though he prefers a calculated risk over diving in blind. However, with three other people...

Everything should be fine.

He has a destination in mind, but they have a few days before they’re remotely close, and he _wants_ to take his time. See! It _will_ be a vacation. Sort of.

The sun disappears over the horizon once they’re officially out of the city-limits and further away from civilization than what would be preferred. Other than scattered gas stations, they’ve got about three or four hours until they make it to a rest stop.

Jinyoung doesn’t get to travel outside the city much, unlike the rest of his family, and he’s with er, _friends_ , this time. This is what young adults, _do_ , right?

Jackson yawns, kicking his feet up against the passenger’s seat, kicking Mark forward, “Hyung, it’s _way_ too fuckin hot. Windows. AC. I’m dying. _Please_.”

“Why the fuck’re you kicking my chair and not just _asking_?” Mark groans, but soon enough, they have a top over their heads. The only thing that semi-wakes Jaebeom up from his slumber, turning so that he’s using Jackson as a pillow. Which he accepts easily, just throwing an arm around him. So much for being hot.

“It’s sort of cool just to see the moon without skyscrapers surrounding it.” Jinyoung muses, gaze flickering to the bubbly moon and back to the road. “It’s pretty.”

“Wanna stop and take pictures?” Jackson asks.

Mark glances to the clock on the dash. Eight. “We should probably consider making our way to a motel, or something.”

Right. Adequate, comfortable sleep. They need that.

It’s a little past midnight when they’re receiving a key for the _single_ room left for the night. Who knew four hours past the city limits were such a hot, popular tourist spot. The rest stop is a combination of a small motel, a large parking lot, some retro diner, and gas station fitted with a twenty-four hour convenience store.

Jackson takes one look at him. “Jinyoungie, buy us snacks.” And glances to Jaebeom, who’s half-awake, rubbing his eyes in that adorably endearing way. “You go with him.”

Jackson shoves a twenty in his hand, and leaves, taking Mark’s arm, and finding their way up to the room.

Jaebeom stares at him.

“Well. Guess we should go.” He tries to force a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze.

On the walk over, Jaebeom’s question nearly gives him a heart-attack.

“Do you think Jackson’s trying to get us together, or something?”

He swallows his nerves, as Jaebeom opens the door to the shop for him. “He does live for romance, but that would be a little silly. No?”

He glances down at him. “Is it that bad?”

His gaze says it all, as he grabs one of those little baskets. _What_?

“If this were a book or something...” He begins, following Jinyoung into the candy aisle, grabbing anything chocolate, as well as Jackson’s favourites, “After seeing you almost die...well, the love interest would...” Jaebeom pauses, bringing a hand to his cheek. “That was so scary.”

He moves on to the saltier snacks, once again, just grabbing favourites. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He doesn’t get a response, until the cashier’s checking them out.

“What a hero...” They exit the shop to a full parking lot and a deep champagne moon—almost purple, really. It gives eerie lighting to everything that Jinyoung likes. Also eerie; the fact that they’re the only two out, right now.

From what he’s told him, he gathers Jaebeom’s fairly sheltered. A result of his father’s upbringing, and his own social-awkwardness. Must feel weird, being a witch in a family of hardcore worshippers. Like how Jinyoung’s an outsider in his own, but probably worse.

He likes fire, and books, and he let Jinyoung drink his blood one time and didn’t run away from him afterwards, _so_.

The gas station is about a half-mile away from the motel, and so...well, it’s not silent.

“Some time ago, Jackson asked me what I thought of you.”

Jinyoung can’t help the hiss that wells up in this throat. _Wang..._

“And, I said, _not much_ , but...” He pauses, thinking. Jinyoung tries not to stiffen at the nervousness invading his thoughts.

Jinyoung thinks he’s cool and all, but he has no time for romance. Even if a witch’s blood is exceptionally sweet, and he wouldn’t mind discovering if it’s sweeter from someone’s lips. Sure, he has experience, but nothing sort of...romantic? Like that?

“I was harsh.” He laughs, throwing his hands in his pockets. Okay, maybe he’s disappointed. A bit. “Hey, so, if you’re a vampire—“

“Not a full vampire, if you couldn’t tell. I find sunlight enjoyable.” Jinyoung says, slowing his pace to match Jaebeom’s. He bobs his head, hair flying with him. It’s sort of long—longer than what Jinyoung would expect for some clean-cut church boy, but he guesses he was really the opposite. “Most vampires don’t have a full sense of self. Except for a select few.”

“...Really?”

“Mmmhm. My mother was completely insane. She slit my father’s throat open one day, and turned to dust the morning after.” He’s never been so casual with personal details, but he also never gets a chance to share them. He was young when it happened anyways. It doesn’t hurt, especially after his grandfather’s conditioning. She was just a monster, anyways.

Jaebeom doesn’t seem too uncomfortable, with a slow nod. “My father—well, he never married my mother, so I’ve never met her, but...I just _think_ , he did something to her. And then covered it up with God, or something.” He pauses, “Er...sorry.”

“No need. It’s fine.” He prefers relatability to pity, always. He whistles. “So...were you always a mini pyromaniac, or...?”

He’s instantly red. “Huh?”

“Jackson’s told me you like setting things on fire. I was just wondering.” _Damn you, Wang, and your stupid suggestions_.

“I-I’ve always had a fascination!” He searches for words quick, “—but I’ve never burnt down anything. I’m like a firefighter!” Another hand to his cheek in an attempt to hide embarrassment.

Cute. Cute... Jinyoung sighs, as they’re finally at the motel stairs, in front of a few scattered vending machines. They’re room 27.

Jaebeom standing this close, it’s...well, he feels hot, his stomach’s been in knots the entire time, and he’s sure his temperature’s risen a few degrees. Which is weird, as a vampire Uh. Half. Blood circulation is low, and so, body temperature is low. His fingers go numb easily on a good day. All they need to do is walk up the stairs and this can be over. But neither of them move.

He blames Jackson for planting this idea in his head. They’re not looking at each other directly, but Jinyoung sneaks a glance.

He’s so pretty. Long hair compliments him. His most neutral face, as Jinyoung’s noticed, is _bored_ , but right now it seems anxious. A little wide-eyed and looking around, clenching and unclenching his fist. He wants to devour him...er,

He shakes his head, trying to bury the thought, starting the climb to the second floor, purple moonlight lighting the way. Jaebeom follows him after a moment, and soon enough, they’re at the door.

Jaebeom stops next to him, hands still in his pockets. All he has to do is knock.

Knock, dumbass.

Jackson opens the door, already in his pajamas. Basically his underwear. He takes the bag from Jinyoung, quickly searching through it, moving a bit to let the two in. “Jeesus, took ages. Second bed’s yours.” He points loosely, to the other, empty bed.

Right. Of course. Mark’s already asleep, and it seems Jackson just climbed out of bed. And by the time he’s ready to sleep, quick shower be damned, they’re all asleep (ish. Jackson doesn’t sleep, but he’s not paying attention, either.) Slipping into the bed without trying to disturb Jaebeom? Hard.

And the gods bless him with the loveliest, strangest dreams. Mostly consisting of hands roaming his body, and lips sliding on and off of his, and warm, sweet...blood.

Yes, the loveliest, strangest dreams.

He wakes up uncomfortable. Especially so when he notices how close Jaebeom was. Or is, because he sleeps like a brick with his face in the crook of his neck, breath consistently winding him up tighter every second. Arm thrown across his chest, sort of wrapping around his shoulder, legs tangled.

Satan, take the wheel.

He licks his teeth, to avoid grinding them in frustration. He doesn’t quite want to move, but he probably shouldn’t stay any longer, either.

Unfortunately, fate has other plans, because the second he gets up to move, Jaebeom’s grip on his shoulder tightens, keeping him in place with a soft grumble.

Well. Alright. No problem.

He glances to the bedside clock, glowing an ominous red, 2:36AM. He shuts his eyes with a groan. He can never stay asleep, can he? The purple radiance of the moon faded into more of a jewel-toned pink, a lot redder than before, illuminating the room dimly.

Right. Blood moons are common, more common than before _and_ particularly dangerous in unprotected residences. This instinct must be subconscious, he was having sweeter dreams for once. He should probably take a look, they’re easy targets. Even if he—

Jaebeom nuzzles in to him, nose pressing against his neck, perfect distraction.

He sighs, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, Jinyoung. Get up, dumbass.

He draws himself up, gently removing Jaebeom’s hands, crawling out of the bed. It’s cold.

He sighs, pulling on his discarded jeans, and shuffling to the door, after taking the key. Only to be face-to-face with.

Mark stares at him. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He mutters, joining him at the banister effectively overlooking the parking lot. Quiet, and full of cars. People don’t travel this late, but there’s a streamline of cars following down the highway.

Mark’s got this same type of authority Yoongi does—unquestionable, but, he’s just...he’s just this thin gangly human. But he commands attention, including Jinyoung’s, so easily.

“What’re you doing up, hyung?”

“Moonlight was annoying. Came to see if anything was happening, but this rest-stop seems untouched. Odd, you know?”

“Yeah...” Hole in the walls are perfect places for supernaturals to gather. Especially in the middle of nowhere. Mark leans on his banister, resting his cheek in his hand, but not looking at Jinyoung. He’s so pretty, he hates it.

“So, what’s really your plan, Jinyoungie?”

He presses his hands against the metal, liking the cool, burning feeling. “Off to where that golem’s magical essence was detected. I’ve got a vague enough idea. And it couldn’t possibly be hard to find where a coven of witches and a pack of werewolves can co-exist out here.”

He tsks, “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Working is relaxing.”

And an eye-roll. “Have Jackson show you how to really relax, hmmm?” He pauses. “Or maybe Jaebeom? Both?”

B-both?

Jinyoung laughs, before he can think about it further and fluster himself. “Hyung, you’re too silly.” Mark smiles and Jinyoung does too, hoping the jewel-toned moonlight hides his flushed face. “Working is relaxing.” He repeats.

He tilts his head. “Hmmmm...well, as long as you relax somehow. I’m sure Jackson’s open to it.” He taps a few fingers against the metal, following whatever melody was in his head. “We don’t need a repeat of that werewolf, do we? Selfishness would do you better.”

Jinyoung shrugs, deciding not to consider his words too deeply. “I’ll just work harder.” Contrary to popular belief, it _is_ hard for Jinyoung to find himself at death’s door, no matter how reckless he can be. He’ll just work harder, get stronger, and it won’t be an issue.

Mark’s smile drops a bit, but he doesn’t comment on it, changing the topic. “How’s the family doing? They just came back and sent you away, huh?”

“Yeah,” He starts. Half for a good reason, he thinks. “Jungkook’s having a hard time, I think. Since you’ve last seen him, I mean. The boarding school he’s going to is meant for more heeumm... _dangerous_ beings, and he’s not quite there.” He watches as clouds start to drift in front of the pink, adding another odd tint to the moonlight. “Yoongi-hyung’s...the same.”

Mark pouts, “He barely talks to me anymore.” Jinyoung’s aware. Of both sides.

“You know how upset he got after, well...” He waves his hand. Mark just sighs.

“ _I’m_ powerless too, but...whatever. It’s weird with you legacy families.” He doesn’t wait for Jinyoung to finish his story, leading him to think he might’ve only wanted to know one thing, really. “You know who’s weird? Jaebeom. Strange dude.”

Jinyoung nods—not like he knows much, really. Just surface level.

“He and Jackson get along unexpectedly well though. It makes me a little jealous.”

“Oh...?” Jinyoung mutters, thinking about it. Maybe he’d be jealous, too.

“I mean, I know you summoned him from the underworld, but I thought our bond was like, _the best_. You know? And witchy-Mc. Witchpants comes out of nowhere and fucks up—okay, well. I don’t mean that.”

Jinyoung blinks, unsure of how to take the information. Mark’s generally a relaxed, calm, guy, but...he sure could get passionate. And jealous, apparently. _Not that he’s a stranger to either_.

Mark doesn’t continue, laughing to cover it up. “Anyways. Doesn’t look like there’s anything to take care of out here.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes slowly drifting back to the elder. Mark is...well, he’s Mark. He’s known him as long as he could remember, when he was just, Yoongi’s kid brother. Being as such, even though he’s just a normal human, he was sort of thrust into their world. With some awkward meeting on the streets one night, culminating with his brother sucking his blood to try and fight off this attacker.

And then, as it turns out, Mark is a _much_ better fighter than his brother who was supposed to carry the torch—the legacy of their twisted, fucked up vampire family. Unfortunately, for other odd circumstances, it was passed on to Jinyoung.

Through several more years of broken friendships and awkward meetings, it’s this. Mark Tuan, in all his elegant beauty, including the scars from every fight he’s been in and won. With Jinyoung, the kid brother and not his infinitely cooler older one, but he’ll digress. It really has _nothing_ to do with this, other than Mark’s clear curiosity and lingering feelings. Sometimes he wonders if they’re just friends because he misses Yoongi, but...

When he blinks back into awareness, he realizes Mark has left and gone inside. Right.

He follows, making sure to lock the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy comeback week, birdies~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry everyone, finals week. at least, now i have at least one degree lol. enjoy guys!

When they’re back on the road, Jaebeom and Mark have switched seats, leading to less bickering between him and Jackson, and Jinyoung sneaking more looks to the passenger’s seat.

They’re driving through a small roadside town, stopped at a light when he gets called out for it.

He’d been biting a nail, but he pulls it away, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“He wants to suck your dick~” Jackson sings from the back seat.

“ _What_?!”

Jinyoung chokes, and then coughs as his saliva goes right down the wrong pipe, “ _Fuck_ ,”

And then the light’s green, so he floors it.

Jinyoung drives for maybe, eight hours straight until his authority is challenged. His heartbeat hasn’t quite been the same since Jackson had to do well, _that_ , and he’s sure it’s eventually been shown by his twitchy, erratic movements, and refusal to look anywhere but the road and the gear shift.

“Jinyoungie, you look tired.” Jackson muses. “Did you get enough sleep?”

Mark hums thoughtfully before he can get a word out. “Pull over, I’ll drive.”

So he’s pouting in the backseat. Jackson leans on his shoulder, thumbing through a novel. He’s constantly impressed by his attention span. He can put down several-hundred paged novels like it was nothing and move on to the next one in seconds. Jinyoung could find something more productive to focus on, but he’s glaring in front of him, making sure _somebody_ doesn’t get too fucking _close_.

Goddamnit, he’s hungry, and he wants blood. The witch’s, to be more precise. He doesn’t like being pissy like this.

Vampires are possessive, yadda, yadda, yadda, whatever. Maybe other people shouldn’t be so loose with the things they’ve _claimed_. But anyways.

“Seun.” He grumbles. Jackson looks up from his novel with those big doe eyes of his. Innocent. But he knows much, much better from odd nights he’d like to tuck into the deep reaches of his memory.

Jackson’s eyes drift where he’s glaring for a moment, but return like they haven’t realized anything. “Hnhn. You look stressed out. Hungry?” Mark sighs. Loudly.

An incubi’s blood is like fast food really. Unhealthy and useless. Drinking a demon’s blood? It’s stupid. Vampires should stick to the easy stuff, humans, werewolves, witches, and fairies. But, there’s minimal cleanup involved with a demon. They heal themselves.

Jackson just sticks his wrist out. Jinyoung refuses with a quick shake.

It’s not that Jinyoung _doesn’t_ like this particular aspect of vampirism—the contrary, really. It’s sort of euphoric. He’s just that— _he’s human, too_. Why the _fuck_ does he get the ability to drink blood? It’s like, the worst part of a vampire. Jungkook and Youngjae can’t even do it—they’re _lucky_. The good aspects without well,

He doesn’t even do it often. Mostly in life-threatening circumstances, and Jaebeom had been the one to suggest it in the first place.

That’s all just to say, that he doesn’t quite dislike the blood drinking, he dislikes the way it makes him. Like he’s watching another man.

But he can drift off to sleep on Jackson’s shoulder before he can act, or think about it too deeply. He wakes up more antsy than before.

He’s not fully a vampire, and he doesn’t _need_ blood, but he really, really _wants_ it, right now.

There isn’t a motel around for miles, so they find themselves in a rest-stop parking lot for the night. The moon’s faded back to the bubbly champagne of most nights, and Jinyoung finds himself staring at Jaebeom half-asleep after the other two had stocked off for _food_ , but probably something else. Mark and jealousy don’t blend, and it only gets worse as time passes.

The witch had climbed into the backseat with him—understandable, it’s more comfortable for sleeping. Jinyoung blinks, watching him.

Jaebeom notices after a moment or two, fixing his hair in his phone’s camera. Jinyoung thinks he likes it better messy, but he says nothing, just watching.

“So,” He starts, clicking off the device, and leaning back into the seat. “You drink blood often?” He didn’t think his rejection of Jackson was that meaningful, but he guesses its an oddity. Nourishment at all costs, and all that.

“No, not really.” He says, surprised at how tired he sounds. Maybe the overworking idea had it’s merits.

“A lot of rituals I was looking at require blood. Sorta scary, huh?” His voice keeps it’s casual tone, his body easing into a pose Jinyoung would only call...suggestive? He gestures to his wrist languidly, a pointed scar left from when Jinyoung drank from it, because he wasn’t careful. He feels...bad. Jaebeom stares at the mark. “Kinda cool.”

Kinda. He just feels possessive.

He _hates_ how subdued his personality gets around this guy, like he’s some schoolboy trying to impress his crush. Be more forward, Jinyoung.

Do it.

“Your uh—“ He starts, as his fangs very acutely tangle his words as they get caught on his tongue. “Your...you’re sweet. Like. Your blood.”

Jaebeom stares, gaze only illuminated by the moonlight. “Oh.” He presses his lips together. “Thanks...for the compliment.”

“No problem! Er—are you tired?”

“Sure,” He says, and feigns a yawn.

The next morning, after stretching out all the crooks from sleeping in a cramped car, they are, once again on the road. Jinyoung has been relieved from his driving duty once again, this time sitting passenger with his head dug into a map. He decides to try and swallow his blood-lust grumpiness the best he can.

They’re three days away from the city and all, firmly placing them in the middle of nowhere, and about an hour’s drive from the town where Jinyoung thinks he’s traced that golem to (with a lot of Jaebeom and Mark’s help.)

The town is aptly named Moonlit Cliffs, as it resides cliffside (duh) complete with a rusty old bridge connecting the seaside, crescent shaped town to the rest of the world, a passage to the ocean below and surrounding it, the buildings descending with carved roads down to the shore. Near the top of the cliff, and where the roads stop, is a lighthouse.

This is certainly a perfect place for a bunch of supernaturals to hide out. Plenty of moonlight—good for both werewolves, and witches, and considering what secrets the oceans may hide, there’s likely no shortage of ocean water for cleansing rituals, and prey hiding in the forest for the wolves.

It’s honestly awe-inspiring. And so well hidden too! If Jinyoung hadn’t been a stubborn snoop, it’d probably be a perfect hidden oasis forever. Good thing he’s here to fuck shit up.

And it’s a full moon tonight.

They ride into town, across that godawful bridge. The city seems as if it’s carved into the mountainside; creating walls, but always leaving enough space for the moon. Or for the case right now, the sun.

Jinyoung looks back to his map. “There’s supposed to be an inn down by the shore.”

Mark hums, following the helpfully placed signs to the lower echelons of the town. The roads are bumpy, and clearly in need of paving, but there’s no-one Jinyoung would trust more to direct them.

There are a number of shuttered storefronts and a few that appear to be open. Jinyoung’s counting on going by unnoticed, long enough to get Jaebeom to perform a locate person spell. As they travel down the mountain, Jinyoung notices how few people are actually out.

Which is exactly what would be expected in a town of werewolves the night of a full moon, halfway through a transformation and all.

Jinyoung could say he makes bad decisions. But, this is his chance, to prove something to Yoongi. To Jungkook, Youngjae. Hell, even Mark and Jackson, too. And Jaebeom.

He sucks in a breath.

When they arrive, the Inn seems inconspicuous enough. It’s run by an older woman, windowed, considering the ring on her ring hand. Most of these towns _do_ have a human population, albeit a smaller one. The Inn is parked right on the beach, feet away from the shore. Jinyoung supposes they probably don’t worry about flooding, especially if resident witches have anything to do with it. She rents them two rooms for the night, and Mark unloads the car while he and Jaebeom huddle in the center of the room, drawing on the floor with charcoal with incense burning on the bedstand.

Jaebeom is carefully drawing symbols in the small, ritual circle, closely using a spellbook for reference. Jinyoung watches, wondering if he could do the same.

The door to their room creaks open, Mark dropping Jinyoung’s suitcase, and Jaebeom’s backpack at the entrance.

“Right to it, huh?” He asks Jinyoung.

“Better sooner rather than later, hm?”

“I guess, but, Jackson launched himself into the ocean as soon as he could, so you’ll have to fish him out when it’s go-time.”

“Can he even swim?” Jaebeom murmurs, apparently finishing the circle, as his charcoal had run out. “I need the head.”

“Certainly.” Jinyoung murmurs, making his way back to the car, and finding the wood carving that served as the head of the golem. Detached, it’s much less ominous, but the holes that served as it’s eyes were still forboding.

He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around the head as a precaution. For all he knows, that widow could have sent them their death-wish.

His gaze finds the beach. Jackson would have to be fished out—there’s some sad excuse for a sand-castle on the shore and no sign of the incubi. Jinyoung sucks in a breath, choosing not to think about it further and deliver the head to Jaebeom, who places it in the middle of the circle made of charcoal.

“Now, I just need the candles. They’re in my bag.”

Jinyoung finds himself overly-anxious, exchanging glances with Mark, who seems unphased.

“I should get Jackson.” Jinyoung says.

Jaebeom stares at him, that blank face of his. “Okay?”

Mark chuckles, “Getting cold feet huh, Jinyoung?”

“Considering it was your idea and all.” Jaebeom murmurs, lifting himself up to his backpack and producing a pack of candles and plastic holders. He places one at every seventh small circle in the ritual. Jinyoung leaves the room.

The sea-breeze hits his face, leaving his lips tasting like salt.

“Jackson?” He shouts, to no response. He makes his way further down shore, to the waves. They’re a little choppy, but otherwise calm. It’s the end of summer, early fall, so the water would be cold, but not freezing. He bites his lip.

“Seunie?”

Nothing.

“Fuck.”

Mark stares at him incredulously; “What do you mean he’s gone?” The tone is joking, but fragile.

Jaebeom watches Jinyoung with his arms crossed, charcoal ritual abandoned for now. “We weren’t careful.”

“Oh, you’re kidding. You think someone went and kidnapped our incubi, the _five_ minutes we weren’t looking?”

“Maybe they were waiting.” Jaebeom suggests. “Maybe it’s all a trap.”

Jinyoung swallows, hoping his hands aren’t shaking. “That’d be fucked.”

“Wouldn’t it.” Jaebeom raises an eyebrow. Jinyoung feels like crying. How does he consistently continue to fail? Life can't possibly be this hard all the time, and yet. Maybe his brothers are right. He's just not cut out for any of this, inherited, supernatural legacy shit. It's debilitating to constantly feel like an outcast of the only world you've ever known, but Jinyoung's gonna get used to it. 

Mark groans, bringing a hand to his forehead. “Let’s not jump to the worst-case immediately.” The redhead throws his hands into his pockets, “I’ll look a little more. If I’m not back in five, be concerned.”

Mark is back in five. About five seconds. He’s holding up a post-it note stuck to his fingers. All it has is _Lighthouse, 7PM._ scrawled in dark purple ink. He just gives Jinyoung this look,

“Call Yoongi.”

“But—”

“We’re dealing with some powerful shit here,” Mark quips back. “Your pride is of no consequence.”

“Well,” Jaebeom murmurs, brushing back his hair. “It’s not like they can kill him.”

Mark’s look stops Jinyoung in his tracks—there’s a fierceness about him he’s never seen. Not like it phases Jaebeom. “There are worse fates that death, am I wrong?”

“It’s been a half-hour. Why not think before launching ourselves into something dumb?” 

Mark sighs, plopping onto one of the beds. “It’s gotta be before tonight or we’re fucked. Harder.” He looks back to Jinyoung. “At least...tell your brother in case something goes wrong?”

That’s fair enough. He nods.

Mark frowns. “We all stick together. Okay?” His eyes find Jaebeom’s. “Sorry.”

There’s a landline placed precariously atop one of the nightstands, it’s wiring creating a messy trail on the floor. Jinyoung has most numbers memorized, and it’s ringing soon enough.

“Hello?” It’s Youngjae—his voice has such strong brassy undertones it’s impossible to mistake it for someone else’s.

“It’s Jinyoung,”

“Ah, hyung.” He says. “It’s good to hear from you. Jungkook thought you’d go off and do something stupid. Or be in jail.”

“Huh.” He starts, “Well. Can you put Yoongi on the phone.”

“Yikes.” There’s a click, and his brother’s deep voice chimes,

“Good to hear from you,”

Anxiety rises in his throat. He coughs in an attempt to hide it. “Sure.” Jinyoung bites his lip. “I need a favor, brother.”

He can taste the humor in his voice; “Oh? And that’ll be?”

“Just.” He sucks in a breath, “If I don’t call you tomorrow, please, look for me?” He shoves the phone back onto the receiver.


	6. Chapter 6

The three of them huddle in the abandoned charcoal circle as the sun goes down. Sunset is beautiful, red, and the moon will certainly be bright enough to blow it out of the water.

“Let’s just.” Mark begins, “Try to be careful.” He stands, beginning to pace. “Fighting is the last resort, okay?” He looks pointedly to Jinyoung for this. Jaebeom looks unbothered; as always apparently. “Hear whoever this is out, but our main priority should be Jackson. Are we all in agreement?”  
“Yes.”

“Sure.”

“If it _does_ come down to fighting,” Jinyoung stands as well, moving out of Mark’s path. “We don’t have any weapons.”

“We shouldn’t have any.” Mark says, “We’re just going to have to improvise.”

Fair enough.

Soon, the three pile themselves back into Jinyoung’s convertible, to head back up the mountain to that damnable lighthouse. As they drive through, the streets are definitely livelier, more storefronts open than before. There are few people walking about, though. 

“Looks like the wolves are coming out.” Jaebeom muses. “Hey,” His eyes catch Jinyoung’s, “Is the werewolf/vampire rivalry, like, true?”

“Considering this trip was to be fulfilling my potential personal vendetta against one…”

“I suppose so!” Jaebeom says, as they drive past another hub of activity. “A coven too, huh.”

“That’s probably where we fucked up.” Mark adds. “Witches are just too unpredictable.”

By the time they reach the lighthouse, the glowing beacon, the moon is low in the sky. Jinyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. The cliff is coveted; providing a gorgeous view of both the moon, and the town under it.

Before they even exit the car, there’s a slam behind them, and then a man standing there.

“Hey! Glad you came,” He shouts. His hair is dyed white, pushed away from his face. He has on light makeup, but heavy eyeliner, and his shoulder visible where there’s a tattoo mimicking a spider web, what Jinyoung assumes to be a sign of his coven.

He hits the hood of Jinyoung’s car,

“Your friend’s inside. Why don’t we talk, hm?”

Jinyoung exchanges a glance with Jaebeom, his lips pressed tight. Mark is in the back-seat, hidden by darkness and the seats. Jinyoung hopes, at least. He’s their insurance.

Without so much as a breath, Jaebeom cracks open the car door and exits. The shirt he’s wearing goes low enough to reveal the mark on his own back declaring his supernatural origin.

Jinyoung doesn’t really find Jaebeom... _threatening_? Bored, maybe. Detached, sure. Impassioned? Not really. (Maybe that’s why fire is his specialty. Taking all of that emotional energy.) He strides up to the white-haired witch in a way Jinyoung can only describe as intimidating. Chin held high with his hair blown out of his face by the windy cliffs. Jinyoung nearly forgets to move, too, when Mark kicks the back of his seat and he’s spurned into action, yanking out the car key to a sudden jolt back into reality.

The sun’s far back against the horizon and the moon’s champagne feels endless, deep, eternal.

The lighthouse they’re staring at feels the same. Eternal. It’s sturdy build feels like it must be a part of something greater, some magical energy he can’t begin to understand. An all seeing eye. Jinyoung doesn’t move from the car—he just watches Jaebeom.

The white-haired man bows his head. “Bambam.” There’s a sudden gust of wind, nearly sending Jinyoung backwards, but the witches remain still. It almost feels as if he's dreaming...is he?

Jaebeom nods his head back. “Jaebeom.”

Bambam seems disinterested, tilting his head back and flipping a well-manicured hand. “I’m from The Circle of Revolution. Heard of us?”

“I’m new to this whole thing. Am I supposed to?”

“Oh!” Bambam chuckles. “I should have guessed—pretty dumb to drive into a witches’ domain in broad daylight, and not expect consequences, huh?”

“Okay.” Jaebeom says, and Jinyoung nearly wants to faint.

“I like you.” Bambam says, beginning to circle Jaebeom. “Honestly, I was just gonna let y’all pass through, but then I caught a whiff of you know,” He gestures to the lighthouse, “Your incubi.”

Jaebeom sucks in an irritated breath. “What about him?”

“He’s a fuckin’ terrorist, is what he is. I was surprised that he hadn’t been killed by that golem I made, but the fucker fucks whoever he wants and then he—” Bambam exhales deeply. “Sorry.”

“That was _yours?”_ Jinyoung shouts, finally pulling away from the car door and moving towards the group.

“Uh, _yeah._ There’s not a more competent woodcarver on this side of the goddamn Atlantic.”

“You’re kidding.” Jaebeom deadpans. “I’m sorry—what the fuck did you expect from a sex demon? You’re not very wise, are you?”

Bambam scoffs, “It’s not like I expected a goddamn ring, but a _call_ would be nice. Hell has manners too, you know!”

“You’re a fucking idio—”

“ _Uh_ —” Jinyoung cuts, shoving Jaebeom’s shoulder. “Is there anything we can do—Jackson’s just an idiot, sometimes.”

Bambam stares, crossing his arms. “Oh, no, I’m finished with him. I just left the note, you know. For flair.”

“ _Finished?”_

_“_ Yes, we had a deep conversation, and maybe some light torture.”

He doesn’t even know how to react. Jaebeom’s face mirrors his own, as Bambam looks on with a smug smile.

“Shall we retrieve your friend?” Jaebeom leaves him with another burst of wind and a blink.

He’s alone.

It’s that strange hour of twilight, when the sun’s nearly disappeared, with the sky a dark purple, and the moon it’s bright champagne. Both bright orbs giving the feeling of two suns. A universe invading another.

It’s a cloudless twilight, but Jinyoung can’t shake the feeling of an oncoming storm. The feeling gnaws at him, deeply enough that it feels like it’s twisting at his insides.

He turns to retrieve Mark, but there’s a humanoid creature with the head of a goat sitting on the hood of his car.

“Why, hello there.”

Jinyoung glances to the moon. It is a crescent, when it was full a moment ago. He swallows.

“Don’t be afraid,” They say, voice too cacophonous. Jinyoung’s hands go for his ears, but it doesn’t stop the echo.

It’s an instant headache the moment he opens his mouth. His voice comes across strained. “Who are you?”

“What’s the worst thing you’d ever do?”

Jinyoung’s lips press tight.

“Let’s make a deal—why don’t you do it?”

"What do I get out of that?" Jinyoung manages to ask. Likely a mistake for such a chance encounter, Yoongi would tell him. The creature has gaping holes for eyes. The creature chuckles, noise echoing in his head. 

The personal demon's laugh is like a wave falling over him--Jinyoung thinks he's fallen as well, body hitting the ground and stiff dirt.

_____________

Grass. Sunlight.

Is that a bee?

Jinyoung jumps awake, eyes meeting a field of grass and wildflowers. The sun is high in the sky, and as far as he can tell, he's alone. He sits up, running a hand through his hair. How long could he have been here? His skin is warm, and luckily not burnt--so it couldn't possibly be days, right? The field seems endless in one direction, a gorgeous rainbow, but he can hear a car whisking by, stop, and turn his head to the highway. 

Jinyoung isn't sure what to make of anything, here. He feels as if there are some critical gaps in his memory--the last thing he remembers is going to retrieve Jackson. Something must have happened, then. Especially considering that he's...alone. He can hear the engine of that car that stopped, cut off. The field is surprisingly quiet, even with the highway nearby. The lack of cars certainly contributes, but he feels almost as if he's in a bubble. 

The aforementioned car is parked on the side closest to the field--where he is. The driver's side door opens and,

Oh. Oh, no. 

His older brother stalks out of the old station wagon, fists clenched. Yoongi steps on all the flowers. Jinyoung swallows.

Once he's close enough, Jinyoung tries. "Hyung..." He starts, but Yoongi is quicker, reaching Jinyoung and pulling him up by the collar of his shirt.

"What the _fuck."_

_"I--"_

"You give us that cryptic as hell message-- _disappear,_ and you're frolicking with goddamn tulips, Jinyoung?" His brother yells, yanking upwards and bringing Jinyoung to his knees. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I...don't remember." 

"You _don't_ remember?" Yoongi hisses, and Jinyoung can see the light touch his fangs. "You're such an irresponsible prick." Another yank, and Jinyoung is on his feet. Yoongi releases his grip. "Come on. We're going home." 

The first step he takes, he falls. His legs have never felt so weak. With the rush of wind that comes with hitting the ground, Jinyoung notices for the first time how chilled the air is. Is it fall?

Ha, ha. 

There's a hand on his shoulder, and his brother pulls him back up. Eye-to-eye. Yoongi's face always has this harsh element to it, but his eyes always betray that element. 

Right now, though? There's only anger. Jinyoung feels himself shrink. 

Without any other words, Jinyoung manages to make it to the car, Yoongi in tow behind him. To keep him from running, maybe? As if he even could, right now. He's fucking starving. His brother opens the passenger side seat for him.

Once Yoongi's in the driver's seat, he meekly asks. "How far away from home are we?" 

"About four hours." He replies, "We had to commission a witch to find you." Jinyoung nods, with another heavy swallow. He doesn't want to ask the obvious follow up to that-- _how long_? 

They drive in silence for what seems like hours down this odd stretch of highway and seemingly neverending wild-flower field. 

"We thought you died, Jinyoung." Yoongi says. 

Jinyoung bites his lip, wringing his hands.

"Just, never do that again, okay?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've got a time skip, everybody!

Jinyoung doesn’t like Halloween. For all intensive purposes, he _should_. Vampire—or, half, but these days he might as well submit to the night completely. Sunlight never used to burn but when he goes outside, the prickling just gets worse. The holiday is a feast. Most other supernaturals seem to think so—it’s why it was one of the busiest nights of the year. Along with the whole, demons crossing over, and with the apocalypse looming in the foreground, there’s even more work.

Well. Not like he has to worry about it anymore, anyways. He’s out of a job. And all because he was so fucking _wea_ —okay, now’s not the time for self loathing.

He pulls open the door to the family brownstone with the intent of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible.

The warmth of the home hits immediately, nearly making him dizzy from nostalgia. It hasn’t been that long, but it really, truly, does feel like it. There’s chattering in the kitchen, he lingers a bit by the doorway just to get a feel for the situation.

“I’m so tired.” That’s Jungkook—he can hear the pout in his voice.

“Me _too_.” Youngjae. He’s whining.

There’s the sound of something sizzling for a moment, and a few more scattered bangs, “It’s all necessary,” The eldest starts. Yoongi, he sounds different. A lot...more, excited, maybe? Happier? “Things are only getting more dangerous...”

Jinyoung peeks his head into the kitchen. Jungkook and Youngjae facedown at their little table, surrounded by warm autumn browns, sunlight filtering and illuminating them in golden glows, Yoongi off to the side with his hair pulled back into a low bun, hovering over something cooking on the stove. He dips in a ladle to sample its taste.

He hadn’t known his older brother to be a cook. That’s...different? And shouldn’t Jungkook be at school? He’s about to clear his throat when Yoongi turns around,

Something flashes across his face but it’s replaced with a soft smile, “Jinyoungie?”

Jungkook lifts his head and turns in his chair in a second, screeching against the wood, “Hyung?!”

Youngjae takes his time. Jinyoung can see the bruises from here—Jungkook covered in a dozen as well. He pulls at his jacket, glad his arms are covered to hide the scars. They’ll never know the extent of his damage, if he has anything to say about it, even though the damage is _done_ , his pride and dignity are strong.

He smiles, shakily, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here? I thought we were like, fighting, or something..” Jungkook muses, still as tactlessly blunt as always.

“Yeah, well,” He replies, pulling at the fabric of his jacket again, “I needed to borrow a spellbook from the library, so I’m here.”

“Spellbook for what?” Yoongi asks, his suspicion hiding well in the warmth of the kitchen. “Nothing stupid, I’d hope.”

Jinyoung frowns, breaking eye contact. “Don’t have anything stupid to _do_.”

“We’re still your family, Jinyoung.” Yoongi says, then turns to the pot. He’d love to comment on how well they seem to be getting along with him gone, but he refrains.

“Yeah,” Jungkook starts, tipping his chair back in some strange mixture of boredom and excitement, “Where’ve you been?”

“Without a single snarky remark...you’ve matured.” Jinyoung deadpans, placing his hands in his pockets, a bit of a sadistic itch to reveal what he’s been up to, but also knowing that would be a mistake.

And, well. They’ll see. It’ll be fun.

“Somehow, I missed you.” Jungkook says, heavy on the sarcasm, but there’s some sincerity there too.

“I’m just going to get the book.” He says quietly, turning away from the scene and climbing up the stairs without a chance for anyone to counter.

The house is full of books—too many, way too many. A fire would counter the burning of Alexandria, in Jinyoung’s mind. Centuries of knowledge and information, hiding in the walls of this one townhouse. They have a library on the second level, where Jinyoung’s room was, and in the back locked by a key and blood, is where he was going.

He makes his way into the room, also stained gold by the warmth of the sun, somehow breaking over city streets and into their home. When he was younger, the bookcases seemed so tall that they’d spiral, but now when his intentions are darker, the library seems so...small.

Empty, warm. He navigates his way through messy bookcases, some tomes spilling out of the shelves and piling up on the carpets, to a door in the back. It’s made of a darker wood than the others, and it’s locked. Their grandfather gave the key to whomever the hunter in the family was, and he made copies.

The unfortunate part is the binding spell transfers, so he bites into his finger, puncturing the skin with his fangs, and lets a drop drip onto the bronze metal.

It seems to work, sticking the key into the hole and being grateful to hear that final _click_ , hastily opening the door and shutting it to darkness.

This particular room is so old, it’s never been wired through with electricity, but there’s a never-ending flame in the corner providing enough light.

The study was his grandfathers, but Jinyoung thinks it belongs to ghosts. Several more bookcases lining the walls, and a desk off to the side with a covered window and inkwells.

The tome he’s looking for should be hidden, but he assumes it would be in plain sight.

He’s right. He usually is.

Jinyoung grabs the book off of the desk, right next to the phone book left there years earlier. It’s decorated in dark, ominous designs. Jinyoung wonders how all cursed books are the same— _is there no originality_?

There’s an odd jolt of electricity rocking through his body as he grabs the book, but he tables the feeling for later, though something feels... _off_.

He takes the phonebook too, easily hiding the thin book inside it. And another book for good measure, carrying his haul in one arm and navigating his way out of the library, to a much deeper golden orange, and a quiet kitchen.

Waiting for him, huh?

There’s more shuffling as he hops off of the stairs, trying to make his leave as quick as possible, throwing up a hand as he passes the kitchen,

“I’m off!”

The door handle shocks him. He pulls away with a gutteral hiss, turning to Yoongi, who has a hand outstretched.

“Why the rush?” He says, “I just finished dinner.”

He patterns through excuses in his head, but none of them are good enough. He sucks in a breath, dropping the books onto the end table by the door, re-entering the kitchen.

“No rush.” He replies, finding the gold light filtering onto him...wrong. He plops down into the seat next to Youngjae. Tired paints his entire visage, weighing him down physically.

Dinner is awkward. Not even Jungkook’s bratty humor could save it. The gold fades into a deep purple, illuminated by the cold blue florescent lights, and Jinyoung can escape to the night air with his books.

Yoongi stands by the door, watching him walk, “It’s dangerous!” He calls,

Jungkook eases his way into the frame, peeking over Yoongi’s shoulder, “I can walk you to the subway or something, hyung!”

He manages to wave them off with just a flick of his wrist, and he can find himself in the shadow of churches on the way to his rundown apartment.

His apartment is small and impersonal, but a much-needed oasis of privacy. After waking up in a field of flowers to a furious brother, Jinyoung figured he needed some personal space. Especially since Yoongi decided to officially 'fire' him. It's admittedly been hard, locking himself in his apartment for days at a time and ignoring Jackson's phone calls. The walls are paper thin too, he’s learned through his neighbors, but he can finally peel off his jacket, and flop onto his couch, discarding the phonebook and practically have his fingers buzz with electricity holding the dark cover of the cursed tome. Maybe trying to be a hastened harbinger of the apocalypse was drastic, _but_.

And then his doorbell rings. He throws the book out of shock, landing several feet away near one of the windows.

Jinyoung stands, quickly unlocking the door and opening it to none other than...

He feels a bit of a smile quirking at his lips. His angel. The witch.

Jaebeom shrinks from the attention instantly. His eyes land on the several semi-recent slash marks covering his arms, but Jinyoung hopes he’s paying more attention to the muscle. He’s...well, he’s Jaebeom. He has half a mind to scold him for coming here after dark, but his bashfulness turns into a smile and he opens the door wider, forgetting his nefarious deeds.

Jaebeom follows him in, glancing around a bit. “Are you ever gonna decorate?”

“Don’t know.” He muses, “Seems pointless.” He watches him frown and nearly regrets the answer.

“Did you eat?”

Jinyoung’s eyes trace the curve of his faultless neck, before landing on the silver cross around it. “Yes, but I could go for seconds.”

“Oh, good.” He says, and raises a brown paper bag he hadn’t noticed before, “Because I bought too much and thought you’d maybe wanna share.”

Jinyoung tries not to sigh too heavily, forcing on a pleased smile, “Not _exactly_ what I had in mind, but.”

Jaebeom chatters as he plays with his chopsticks, sort of poking at the food, but finding none of it appetizing at the moment. One of his problems, he’s a little one track minded. He has this cute habit of talking while chewing, then realizing it a _second_ later, leading to more awkward stuttering than Jinyoung thought was bearable, honestly.

“...Haven’t seen you at the apartment, lately. Jackson’s getting on my case about it, but, you _have_ been really closed off...” He pauses, “Not that I wanna _invade_ your space or something, I’m just...a little...worried. You look sick, too. Are you eating okay?”

Ugh. All that church, _Love Thy Neighbour_ bullshit really shines with him sometimes, and for a witch, he’d think...well, he thinks he’s perfect, but he’s not gonna _tell_ him that. One weakness, one weakness, Jinyoung. That’s okay to have.

Right?

He swallows, mouth feeling like sandpaper.

“It’s...been hard.” He admits.

Jaebeom stops, dropping his chopsticks and blinking at him. He can see the information clock in his brain in real time, “Oh my _god_ , it must be!”

That’s all he really wanted...someone to tell him it’s okay.

The witch continues, “I understand, getting cast out of your life is hard.” He says, softly, reaching his hand over and tapping his fingers across Jinyoung’s hand. It gives him an unexpected shock, like the book. “You can always talk about it with me.”

“I feel so utterly hopeless.” Jinyoung pushes his chair back, thankfully far away from Jaebeom’s warm hands holding his own, because he’d surely cave. “...but, I was always sort of certain they hated me...but somehow it all feels so much _worse_ than I thought?”

Jaebeom watches him fidget with a tilted head and concerned gaze. He considers mentioning that field of flowers. He knows it's a blank in his friend's vision, but, he's not sure if he wants to be labeled completely out of his mind, yet. 

“I...don’t know how to explain it. I know I was always capable and...” He stops, suddenly aware of the weight of his words. “S-sorry.”

“Oh, no, god no, please talk.” He stands, moving around the table to his side, “Maybe...chat on the couch? More comfortable.”

He does as he says, setting into the couch with the glow of a red moon for the backdrop, Jaebeom leaning against the back, propping his head up and watching him, illuminated by the pretty moonlight. Jinyoung sits as close as he possibly can without it being awkward.

“After that night, you know.” He waves it off, loosely gesturing to the clawmarks on his chest. “And god, I don’t have a purpose anymore, Jaebeom. Training was my _life_. Everything I did.” He knew this all already, but it bears repeating.

His companion nods slowly, lips pursing into a pout that Jinyoung just wants to bite away.

“I don’t know what to do.” He finishes, eyes quickly flickering over to the cursed tome obscured in darkness, outside the red eye of the moon. Jaebeom takes pity on him, leaning forward and capturing his wrist, rubbing comfortingly.

His voice is so sweet, he can’t be mad at his words. “You almost died...didn’t you...Jinyoungie?” Sure, he did, but that doesn’t _matter_. He could have kept going, but _no_. He grits his teeth, Jaebeom leans forward, “I think it’s better that you’re safe, and maybe you’ll be able to...I mean...I care if you’re safe.” He trails off. Jinyoung tries not to frown too hard, whatever vampiric thirst over him fading slowly. “Seeing you hurt like that...” Last straw.

“Maybe you should go.”

His eyes flash with something, but Jaebeom smiles at him anyways, slowly getting up to stand, Jinyoung averts his gaze to his hands. “I um...yeah. If that’s what you want. You can keep the food too, um...”

Regret hits instantly, especially by watching him wander a little too close to his book, jumping up to catch his attention, “Er, _wait_!”

He turns, gaze darkened. His words get caught in his throat. “Yes, Jinyoung?”

“I’m sorry. You can, eurm. Stay.” He edits, “I _want_ you to stay...”

“That’s okay—like I said, I don’t want to...“ He reaches the door, wrapping his fingers around the handle. “Invad-“

“Do you want to open a portal to the Old Gods with me?” He blurts. Jaebeom stops, turning slowly.

“A, _what_?” His eyes are wide and innocent, and Jinyoung might regret roping him into this.

“A...portal.” He starts slowly, kneeling to grab the cursed tome and holding the book up, bathed in bloody moonlight. “You’re a witch. Maybe you can h-help?”

To his surprise, Jaebeom doesn’t run and turn him in to the nearest council, moving closer with a hand out-stretched to the book. “Is that...?”

“Belonged to Lucifer himself, yeah...” He looks back down at the cover, and back to Jaebeom. His fingers play with the cross around his neck.

“This is just...radiating _evil_. Why, Jinyoung?” They’re practically chest-to-chest now, but Jaebeom’s fingers gently rest over Jinyoung’s as he inspects the tome, detaching from the cross. He sees him recoil a bit. “A portal...?”

“I’m interested in revenge.” He says slowly. “If you might be...as well.” He clicks his tongue. “Mortals are just so...ungrateful...and...I’d like to see Jungkook and Youngjae deal with a couple dozen extra demons...”

Jaebeom glances up at him, locking eyes, “So you want to...teach them a lesson?” 

“More or less,” Jinyoung has not outlived his usefulness, and his family will know.

"This is gambling your soul, but maybe since you’re half...” He gulps, “It probably doesn’t matter.” He adds, “You probably don’t care. You seem determined.”

“You read me so well, angel.” Jinyoung hums. Jaebeom swallows again. “So?”

“I...guess...if it’s what you want.” He breathes, locking eyes once again. “I'll help you.”

He tackles him into a kiss right then and there. Overload of emotion. His brain clearly isn’t working properly, but their lips have already met. The book falls to the ground with a damning crash, but he doesn’t care—Jaebeom’s lips taste like blood, probably because he never stops biting them, they’re always a little red and swollen he’s noticed. It’s over quick, Jaebeom pulling away, wide-eyed.

“Way too much just happened.” He pants.

“I’ll be happy to answer any questions.” Jinyoung replies, just as breathless.

“First.” Jaebeom mumbles, reaching for his necklace, and ripping the chain off. Jinyoung can see the burn mark where the cross used to be. He drops the silver to the ground, falling on top of Lucifer’s book. “Fucking ow.”

“Why do you wear that?” Jinyoung asks, even though he’s supposed to be the one answering. Jaebeom simply shakes his head pressing a few fingers to the raw skin gently.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry—now, uh. _Why_?” He stares—his eyes have this innocent curious look, likely expecting some, _for the blood sacrifice_! Or, _your evil spirit is irresistible_! Or anything like that, when it’s really just Jinyoung’s been swallowing a crush for the longest time, obviously.. And it seemed like the perfect time to seal a deal with a kiss.

He’s certain his hands are shaking. Play dumb? “Why. Um. What?”

Jaebeom gestures to his lips, still blood red. “The kissing thing, Jinyoung. Surely, you remember.”

“Oh...” He starts. Jaebeom waits patiently, and even in the red-lighting he can see how flushed his face is. “I like you?”

“—Because, I can understand if you need the kiss of a virgin or something for a—huh, wait.” He stops. “What?”

“Did I get too excited?” Jinyoung asks, “I’m sorry—er...well...if you don’t—“

“No, Jinyoung.” The witch interrupts. “That’s not it—you _like me_?” He nods. “Like...me?” Another nod. “—And you decided to just...kiss me—let me know, once I agreed to summon a gateway to forgotten gods with you?”

“Yes.”

To his surprise, he gets a blinding grin. “You’re amazing.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for missing a week, but we're back! hope you're all well.

The next time he heads home, he gets Jaebeom to come with him. It’s edging into winter and Jungkook is out of school, so the house is full, sans himself.

He turns the key, expecting the newfound burst of warmth. Living in this metaphorical and literal darkness isn’t quite good for his health—and it’s definitely not good for Jaebeom, an early snag in their plan he needs a solution to. Immediately.

Jaebeom seems sunken in. But still beautiful to him. 

But...yeah. Sickly. Not good. So he’s going to peruse through the family spellbooks and find prevention. Maybe a protective ritual. Something. Anything. He’ll do anything.

Jinyoung sort of thought his impulsiveness would cover summoning a doorway to hell, but he’s also come to terms that absolutely nothing can happen to Jaebeom or he’d lose it. That’s two conditions. Isn’t that good? He’s just too sweet, too good, too perfect, Jinyoung thinks he’s never loved anything like this, and honestly, he didn’t think he had the capability, either. 

Yeah, Yoongi, or Mark would definitely call it a honeymoon phase but Jinyoung’s pretty sure he’d feel this way forever. His heart is always in a full moon anyway. 

Heads turn from the kitchen. Jungkook’s sort of seated on top of one of the counters, thumbing through a cookbook, maybe? Youngjae’s stirring a pot, and Yoongi isn’t there. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook beams. Jinyoung feels fear, latching onto Jaebeom’s arm. His eyes narrow once he spots him. “That guy. I remember you.”

“That  _ guy _ has a name, Jungkook.” Jinyoung chastises, and it’s all too familiar to him, so he swallows down the feelings. “Im Jaebeom.”

“Yeah?” He mocks. “What about hi—“

Youngjae glances over. He looks tired, but interested. “Hi, hyung. Hi hyung’s friend.”

Jinyoung nods his head a little. “Youngjae.” He glances back to Jaebeom, and decides to bite the bullet. They’ll be friendlier, anyways. He places his hand on Jaebeom’s chest. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“You can  _ love _ ?” Jungkook asks, but Youngjae seems much more excited, that lifeless energy draining out almost instantly. 

“Are you going to stay for dinner?” He asks brightly, “You really should. Yoongi-hyung’s been missing you, too.” 

Jungkook nods along, as if to a beat. “Yeah, and if there’s someone out there  _ you _ can date, I gotta know why.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “He loves me very much.”

“We haven’t even heard his  _ voice _ yet.” Jungkook taunts, “What. Is he shy around a ton of vamps?” He flashes his baby fangs. Jinyoung can’t help but crack a smile. 

“So, how often are you bullied at your school flashing teeth like that?” Jinyoung asks, glancing to Jaebeom, still listless. He reaches over and runs a hand through his hair for comfort. Poor baby. 

Jungkook cackles, “Yeah, jokes on you ‘cause I’d  _ never _ . Stop being gross, by the way.” 

“Won’t be doing that.” He says, tangling his fingers in the strands. He gets a sleepy smile in return. “Haven’t even  _ done _ anything, Kookie. How will you ever date if you gag everytime your lover simply looks at you?”

“Another foolish move! I  _ never  _ will!”

Youngjae chimes in, leaning on the kitchen counter. “That’s a lie. He’s crushing on this pumpkin kid named Yugyeom.” 

“First of all.” Jungkook starts, deadpan. “He is a  _ headless horseman _ . Not like you’d know, since you’re naturally ignorant, hyung, but—“ 

“Alright.” Jinyoung cuts. “Jaebeom and I are heading to my room. I’m picking up some things.” 

“Whatever.” Jungkook pouts,

“But, you’ll join us for dinner...right?”

That’s less suspicious...right? He nods, then takes Jaebeom’s hand, launching them up the stairs. 

He starts in the direction of their library, squeezing. 

“Your family is cute.” Jaebeom says, absent-mindedly. Jinyoung’s a little worried he’ll faint. Regret creeps into the thorough of his mind...getting this attached—the capability to be attached in the first place, was so idiotic. 

He knocks open the door to the library, gesturing to one of the desks lining the walls, faint moonlight creeping into the room from half-covered windows. “Why don’t you sit and relax, darling?” 

“Sure.” He mumbles, Jinyoung leads him over, and helps him sit as well. Probably a bit much, but Jaebeom’s a little too out of it to argue. The burns from failed spells are enough proof of that. He’s even burned Jinyoung by accident, but he regards that marking more fondly than he’s supposed to. (A reminder forever...how romantic. Passion burns.) 

Jinyoung smiles, drawing away with a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Jaebeom nods drowsily, resting his head in his hand. Jinyoung walks away, to the back of the library, feeling for the key in his pocket, then sinking his teeth in his wrist to drop blood against the dulled bronze.

The door seems untouched as usual, and Jinyoung sticks the key in, the door clicking through several locks, most of them magical and opens the door to—

“Yoongi-hyung!” He bursts. His brother glances up from the novel he was thumbing through at the desk. The room is as dark as always, candlelight giving an ominous glow to their eldest.

“Jinyoung...” His voice lilts with suspicion. “Nice to see you. Here.” 

He nods slowly.

“You still have...the key?” 

Oh gods. Does he play dumb, or—Yoongi does it for him.

He stands, closing the book, turning it so he can’t see the cover. “I suppose the locks must be used to your presence. Did I leave the door open?” He says, Jinyoung stiffens, sticking the key back into his pockets. “Magic can’t be perfect all the time.” He shrugs. 

Sure, yeah, that makes sense.

Yoongi’s gaze remains piercing. The dim red tint to his eyes doesn’t help. “What brings you back here? Looking for me?”

“Not particularly.” He admits, deciding sticking to the truth would be easiest, and more believable in the long run. One contradiction instead of several is forgivable. “Um...my boyfriend.” He starts slowly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?  _ You _ ?” 

“I don’t really have any reason to be a workaholic now, do I?” He hisses. Yoongi shrugs. He tries not to sound bitter. “He’s um, a witch. But—he sort of...found out recently. Excess magic energy seems to be having an adverse effect.” He pauses, then adds, “Since his body doesn’t seem to be...used to it.” 

“Intriguing.” His brother says, “I’ve never really heard of that, but his body should naturally adjust unless, well...what are you looking for, exactly?” 

“Warding spell. Anything.” He sounds desperate. He’s not sure if he cares. “Help me.” He places a hand to his chest. “If there’s an energy siphon or something...”

His brother smiles. “That’s sweet of you. How mature.” Jinyoung grits, teeth grinding. “Let’s see, there’s bound to be something around here that can help.” 

They spend around a half-hour sorting through various spellbooks until they come across a ritualistic-spell based tome that Jinyoung’s certain was stolen from a coven of witches, and is falling apart at the seams. 

Yoongi reads it to him, lips forming around the runic language that Jinyoung barely understands seamlessly. He translates, too. “This spell here might help,” He points like he understands, but Jinyoung can only make out single words. “What it does basically, is split a magical burden. So if he were to enact a spell, do this ritual before, and then the weight would be put onto the second member. Or split between whoever else participates.”

“That should be perfect—“ Jinyoung reaches for the book, but Yoongi keeps it from him.

“ _ However _ , if he’s already ill, he shouldn’t be casting spells in the first place, Jinyoung, making this useless. And along with that, the entirety of a spell  _ on _ you, a vampire, is idiotic. So, is there another problem?” 

He deflates, his thoughts immediately turn hostile. “I don’t know,  _ hyung.  _ I’m not his doctor, and I’m not a witch. Let me at least try—“ He reaches, Yoongi places the book flat on the table. 

“I’ve never seen you quite so hysterical. You’re one to look for alternate solutions.” His brother hums, turning his attention to his nails. “I’m thinking there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

“This—hyung, just, let me have the book. I’m not going to play with something like this.”

“Why?”

“Because—I’m,  _ worried _ . I think I’ll die from worry if I don’t find a solution.” He admits. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Precisely.” He smiles, and closes the book, handing it over gently. “Now, are you joining us for dinner?”

He introduces Jaebeom to Yoongi a bit after that. He seems to understand what he was saying, and soon enough they’re back in the dining room.

Jungkook watches Jaebeom with suspicion. “So.” He starts. Jaebeom glances upwards, his spoon clangs against the bowl. “Brother in law?”

Jinyoung sends over a glare that would turn even the most grotesque monster away. He’s tried it. “Brat. Shut up.” 

“I’m just  _ asking _ . It’s not like he’s said a word.”

“He’s sick.” Jinyoung hisses, “And, he’s not a fan of annoying children in general.”

“Do I  _ look _ like a child?” Jungkook asks, “I’m seventeen! I’m almost as tall as you, second.” 

“You’re barely seventeen. And if height were a measure of maturity, Jinyoung’d never get on any amusement park rides.” Yoongi suggests, and Jinyoung thinks he rightfully deserves the glare.

Jaebeom chuckles a bit. His voice is scratchy and hoarse, Jinyoung shudders without meaning to. “Shouldn’t you be torturing someone your own age instead of your brothers?”

“They love me!” He grins, excited by the new voice. “And I don’t go to school here, so I don’t really know anybody.” Jaebeom gives an interested,  _ oh _ ?, so Jungkook continues. “Yeah, believe it or not, my good looks don’t get me everything. My classmates...”

“ _ Hate  _ him.” Youngjae cuts, “We’re not sure if it’s for good reason or not, yet.”

“It’s discrimination, is what it is.” Jungkook glances to Jinyoung. “Sometimes I wish I looked more like you and Yoongi-hyung.” 

“Yeah?” Jinyoung mumbles absent-mindedly, resisting the urge to pick up Jaebeom’s spoon and feed him, “Why’s that?” 

“’Cause you both don’t look human. You look like Mom. I wish I did.” 

Youngjae nods along with him out of the corner of his eye. Jinyoung stares at his younger siblings. “You’re serious?”

“ _ Duh _ ? Why would I joke ‘bout that?”

“Not many people want to look  _ more _ like a monster.” Yoongi says what he’s thinking. Glad they can agree on that. 

“Not at my school. I look like such a fucking normie. I hate it.” 

“Wanna go to public school with me?” Youngjae taunts. Jungkook blinks at him several times.

“Oh, so you hate me. I knew you did.”

“Being surrounded by humans all day is  _ torture _ . If I looked strange, I bet they’d leave me alone.” Youngjae says, resting his head atop the table. He had scarfed down the food, unexpectedly. 

“So we have an antisocial one, and a social one no-one likes.” Yoongi says. “Adorable.” 

“Yeah.” Jinyoung mumbles, itching to get out of this house. 

His wish comes true about an hour later, unexpectedly getting a  _ hug _ from each of his younger siblings. Jaebeom is so amused, Jinyoung’s almost angry at him. Yet, he seems so delicate, it’s hard...

“What’s so funny, hm?” He asks, once they’re in his car, rushing past the richest, oldest areas of the city to where the highrises reside. 

“Your family seems sweet. I’m not sure why you hate them so much.”

“They were being nice for you.” Jinyoung says. “Anyone would.” And frowns, watching him cover his mouth to cough. “How are you feeling?”

“The same as earlier, of course.”

Jinyoung takes that answer with a grain of salt, because once he’s parked and they exit to his apartment building, Jaebeom drops to the pavement unconscious. 


	9. Chapter 9

Swallowing his panic—Jinyoung’s trained to _live_ in crisis situations, he can lift him and navigate his way to his elevator, his floor, his door. His—oh god, he’s going to vomit after this—is that _blood_? 

Once he can place him on his couch, he gets to checking vitals, which seem fine. He spends too much time cradling his face which seems at peace, hoping for a furrowed brow or something so that he’d wake up, but he’s just tired? Just tired, right? 

He gets a little reprieve. In what seems like forever, his angel opens his eyes blinking heavily. 

Jinyoung’s hands fly back to his face, cradling it. “Oh, darling, my darling...you’re awake, are you okay? Do you need a hospital...?”

He swallows, Jinyoung can hear it, “I’m—fine, I was just...lightheaded.”

Jinyoung _does_ remember him not eating much, even at dinner. Even though there’s certainly a more sinister origin. 

“I’m sorry.” He starts—“I didn’t know how stressful this would _be_ on you my angel, I’m so sorry...oh, how could you ever forgive me...you don’t have to. Punish me...” 

The witch is still out of it, blinking to get his hold back on reality. “It’s...it’s really dark in here, can you turn on the lig—“ Jinyoung nearly sprints to the light-switch, flipping it onto it’s highest setting. His eyes hurt, it’s why he keeps it dark in here, but,

“Is that better?” He can go buy a few lamps if he needs—

“It’s...better.” He says. Jinyoung rejoins him on the couch.

“We’ll take a break. Nothing matters. We can try again some other time. When you’re better...oh, darling.” He reaches for him, but Jaebeom backs out of his grip. The lump in his chest drops.

“I want to be useful to you...” 

“When you’re better, we’ll try again.” That desperate edge in his voice peeks out. He reaches again, Jaebeom shifts away again. 

“I’m sorry.” He exhales, voice a little too light, too weak for Jinyoung’s liking. His worry is practically exponential. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to. I just...” 

Jinyoung grits his teeth, holding out his hands, trying to be as open as he can. “Darling, angel let me hold you. Don’t apologize.” 

He submits. Jinyoung’s cold hands cradle his face yet again. He stares up at him with this indescribable emotion, but, it makes Jinyoung colder. 

“And, angel, don’t worry. The spellbook Yoongi gave me will let me take any magical burden off your shoulders,” He leans in closer, dropping his hands from his face, but still on his knees so he’s above. “And I will...you don’t have to worry.”

Jaebeom, more awake now, stares. “So, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

He draws his hand down his cheek, then rests it. “As I said. Punish me for doing this to you...” 

“You’re so.” He breathes, then shuts his eyes. “Jinyoung, I don’t know...” 

“Why don’t you rest? My bed’s all yours.” He offers, and waits. 

Jaebeom shakes his head a little. “No...I...I don’t think I can sleep alone.”

“Oh, then...” He mumbles, waiting. The witch gives him a little nod and the coldness in his chest turns to excitement. 

His bed is a little small for two people, they can’t just roll to opposing ends to forget one another, their legs would always be tangled. And so, Jinyoung wraps his arms around him and swears he’ll never let go. He hopes in the morning he’ll be more comfortable talking about what’s wrong...gods, please.

______________

Jinyoung wakes up rather early, much earlier than he’d prefer, sunlight blinding him and nearly searing his skin. He peels his eyes open, Jaebeom lying on his side staring at the ceiling. 

“Did you sleep at all...?” He asks softly.

As if from a trance, he jumps, eyes quickly finding him. He blinks several times, catching his breath. “Ah...” 

He reaches out hesitantly, a hand brushing his shoulder. He shudders, so he pulls away. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?” 

His boyfriend places a hand on his forehead, shutting his eyes, “No, I...I kept having nightmares...or...daydreams? I-I didn’t sleep.” 

Jinyoung sits up, blanket falling off his shoulders, falling back onto Jaebeom. “You _what_?”

He turns his head away, “Nightmares, Jinyoung...” 

His brow furrows. “About what? Are they premonitions?” 

He breathes, tucking his head further into the pillow, “I don’t know. I’m just...really tired?”

The vampire leans forward, “Can I help?” He reaches for his shoulder again, and he doesn’t flinch so he settles his hand. Jaebeom does ease a little, huffing and leaning back into his touch. “Is there anything?”

“Just...” Jinyoung starts rubbing circles with his thumb into his skin, pressing their bodies closer together. “Keep doing what you’re doing...” 

He nods eagerly, but realizes soon enough just how useless...it all was. He relaxes, but he’s still tense. Every time he shuts his eyes, they open a few seconds later with a jolt. Jinyoung’s beginning to feel terrible. He might have to pay a visit to home sooner than he thinks.

Jinyoung sits up, Jaebeom’s eyes follow him. “I’ll go make you some chamomile—okay?”

Several hours later, once the daylight’s faded into sunset maroons, nothing’s really changed. Jaebeom lays his head against his chest gazing off into the distance and Jinyoung holds him. The television crackles. Jinyoung tries to swallow his worry, wondering exactly what he’s done.

What god did he help upset? And why can’t they punish him instead? 

“I’m so tired.” He mumbles.

“I’m so sorry.” He draws a hand through his hair. The witch sighs. “Do you—maybe if we go out or something...A change of scenery? Something?”

Jaebeom blinks at him, processing. Jinyoung’s mind continues to move a mile a minute,

“M-maybe, um,” He bites his lip, “My house has a lot of protective wards over it, that may help. Do you want to...”

Yeah, so, he’s carrying suitcases back to the family brownstone. He knocks the door open to a full kitchen yet again. Is this some ritual he missed out on? Heads turn, leaning to get a view into the hall. It honestly might be a funny sight, a suitcase in one hand, another arm wrapped around the hell-touched witch himself. 

Yoongi speaks first with a head-tilt. “Jinyoung?”

Then Jungkook appears over his shoulder. “Hyung!” 

And Youngjae, leaning in from the other side. “Already?” 

He takes a deep breath, averting his eyes to the ground to hopefully make telling half-truths easier, “Er, yeah. Apartment’s energy is unsettling Jaebeom, he can’t sleep, and since our home is well protected, well,” 

“Oooh,” Jungkook leans back, out of view.

“Awwwwh,” Youngjae croons, also easing out of sight.

Yoongi rests his fist against his cheek, gazing between the two. His expression doesn’t change. “Well. Alright, then.” He pauses, “You’re joining us, correct?”

“Um,” He breathes, “Let me just...head to my room, first?” 

Unlike his apartment, Jinyoung’s bedroom is very-much-so not empty. He feels a sudden need to rip all of his posters down before Jaebeom enters, but he’s so out of it, it might not matter. 

He drops the suitcase by his dresser as Jaebeom plops onto the bed. “So. Think you can sleep here?”

“I’ll certainly try,” He mumbles, staring at him. Jinyoung gets the distinct feeling it’s right through him. “I really like you, you know. I’d do anything.” It’s lucid. Jinyoung wonders if sleep is finally upon him, settling on the edge of the bed.

He reaches forward running a hand through his hair. Jaebeom eases into the touch “Don’t worry about anything right now, alright?”

“Ahh, you’re so funny, Jinyoung. You’re not a guardian anymore.” His words hit him with a disgusting pang on emptiness. What does he even mean? “Y’don’t haveta protect anyone.” 

“Yeah well,” He starts. “Old habits die hard and...” He’s sure he must look annoyed, “Why wouldn’t I take care of you?”

“Old habits die hard...” He gets in reply. Each word is getting slurred now, so he’ll have to be close to sleep. It’s unfortunate it’s...here of all places, though. Jinyoung continues brushing through his hair, wrapping his fingers around the strands occasionally, getting a moan in return each time. Either out of annoyance or pleasure, but he doesn’t say stop, so. 

After a while he cracks open an eye. “Aren’t you going down to your brothers...?”

“Do I _have_ to?” 

“Stop avoiding your family.” Jaebeom mutters, grabbing his arm and wrestling it out of his hair. “I’ll be here.”

“And, what if you have a nightmare?” 

“Good thing I’m in a house of hunters then, right?” His smile is sleepy, “I’ll go down with you if you want, darling.”

Darling? He swallows. He must really be delirious. 

“I’ll...go down.” He says, squeezing Jaebeom’s hand. “But I won’t be happy about it.”

He enters the kitchen and Yoongi stares at him.

"We're playing Jenga." Alright then. 

Jinyoung assumed he had careful hands and all, being you know, _a hunter_ , but clearly everyone else in his family is better than him, or somehow magically glued the blocks down because he was out first every single round. Their youngest takes a risky pull from the top of the tower.

Jungkook cackles, hopping onto his knees and then standing on his rickety chair looming over the family. "Take _that_! Who's the boarding school brat now, suckers? Guess you never had to sneak around--" 

"Oh?" Yoongi questions, raising a brow. "Sneak where?"

Jungkook hops off the chair as quickly as he stood. The tower crumbles. Youngjae starts laughing wildly, and Jinyoung wonders if Jaebeom can even sleep with all this noise. His mind can’t help drifting back to the man in his room every once in a while. And he avoids their questions like a damn ninja, with the mental gymnastics he does to get over them. At least it's easy to shift attention back on Jungkook whenever the questioning begins to make him nervous.

Jungkook babbles on about the pumpkin--excuse him, headless horseman he's _totally_ not infatuated with. 

"Just because you've never had a penpal, _hyung_ , doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer." The boy says, pouting in Jinyoung's direction.

"Sneaking out your dorm, pen-pals, whats next, Kookie? Summoning demons?" Jinyoung asks, resting his hand on his chin. Yoongi looks too amused. 

"I'm sorry," Jungkook starts, staring from beyond his crumbled Jenga kingdom, "I'm not the one with an incubi as a BFF the last time I checked."

"Truuuu," Youngjae chimes, leaning back in his chair. Jinyoung wishes he'd just take the extra step and fall. 

Okay, that's mean. Jinyoung sighs, stretching to get that satisfying _crack_. He notices Jungkook shudder at the noise. "I'm retiring for the night."

"Fine, _whatever_ , loser." Jungkook shoots back. 

At the very least, Jaebeom’s sound asleep when he gets back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for lack of updates, y'all. gonna try to get more consistent lol

**Author's Note:**

> hi i exist--i'll finish snowdrift one day but for now here's something honestly not that different, lol.  
> i dont use it but heres my curiouscat--https://curiouscat.me/kniightora


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